Dancing into the Night
by Lyn Harkeran
Summary: When Dracula sets his sights on a certain barmaid, her life is turned upside down. But why would he do such a thing? Why would the Prince of the Carpathian's have such an interest in a lowly woman such as her? Eventual Dracula/OC romance. Angst, hurt/comfort, adventure, and some vampiric violence. Diverts from Canon
1. Chapter 1

**Dancing into the Night**

* * *

The sun had long since set upon yet another fall day, and the nighttime hours were well at hand. For weeks on end there had been generous rainfalls over most of Hungary and Romania, and due to this, the nights had gotten considerably colder. From the hearths of their cottages and businesses, many could see the first tendrils of winter breathing impatiently upon the glass. With miniature fractals of ice forming on the windows and all metals that could be found outside, it was apparent to most that being indoors was far more favorable than being out. Not that Lynara really had much of a say in the matter. . .

It was a brisk wind that grew ever vicious, that met the young woman as she exited from the bright tavern to chop more firewood in the dusky autumn eve. Though most of the guest rooms were still well stocked, the great roaring fireplace that kept all the paying customers warm on the main floor had begun to dwindle. So Lynara had been ordered to fetch some more and to be _quick_ about it. And seeing as she did not wish for a nasty scolding or lashing by the Master of the tavern, she had obediently donned a shawl (that let more cold in then it kept out) and entered into the crisp night air.

The young woman of some 19 odd years took in her surroundings naturally, as she walked towards the wood pile located at the back alleyway of the port-side business. Though it was completely dark out now- save for the glowing light of the full moon over head- she was unafraid. Countless times the girl had been tasked with getting more firewood in the later hours; so she paid the softly howling wind blowing in from the Carpathians no mind, nor the lilted, wordless echoes that seemed to travel from further inland.

Having been a barmaid in Budapest for most of her life, Lynara had heard countless tales of the nightmarish creatures that lived in Transylvania and the deepest recesses of the Carpathian Mountains. But the stories had never bothered her, for the danger wasn't present, and her life had never been threatened by a wolfman or a blood-sucking demon. In fact, there were some days that the maid wished that this wasn't the case; to save her from the stupidity of her own kind. Because for every story she heard of the mythical beasts of the wild Romanian lands, she had several sailors in the tavern make passes at her, or threaten her when she refused them. Most of the men that came into port assumed that one such as her would come with a price, and easily fall into bed with them for a pretty copper piece. The young woman always made the effort to prove these customer's assumptions wrong.

Though Lynara was a barmaid and served in the tavern almost day and night, she had never resorted to selling her body. One might have thought that her title and the extracurricular activities might have been a given benefit, but the young woman had always refused such things. She would have rather starved in the street than be touched by the plague rats that wafted in and out of Budapest, and she had made such information _very_ clear. Luckily, the Master of the Tavern and his wife were willing to let this lapse in conformity slide. The young woman had remained untouched, other than the random bit of groping that couldn't be caught in time, and the drunken hugs that she sometimes received from the regulars.

It was a fact that the girl was a familiar face at the tavern. For years she had been pouring ale, and cleaning up after guests. And though she wasn't by far the prettiest of the barmaids that stayed under the two-story roof, she was definitely the best known. This wasn't to say that Lynara was a _favorite_ by any means, but she had left a positive mark on her home/work and it rightly showed. She was recognized by name for those who had entered the tavern more than once, and was cordial with all who came. And for the most part, the young barmaid could recall the preferred beverages of the proper guests. In the overall scheme of things, this wasn't very impressive or much of a strain, but it had made a world of difference for Lynara.

The young woman now strode over to the chopping block, and quickly lifted the first branch into position. Then she deftly grabbed ahold of the ax that rested beside the pile and took her first swing. It was a clean slice, rushing through the air with a soft rustle against the wind, as the blade of the ax hit the branch directly at its center. Lynara evaded her dark eyes as small wood chips flew skyward, and then determinedly repeated the process. With several more strokes the first log was chopped into manageable pieces, and the maid got another to take its place on the block. And as she began to strike that piece of wood, the girl let her mind wander far into the night. With each swing of the ax, her shoulder and arm muscles tightened and stretched, before they would relax again and wait for the next challenge. Though it was hard and laboring work, the young maid was soothed by it and let her thoughts drift to the dreams she indulged when she was on her own. She looked upon golden futures where she shone like the very stars in the heavens, or moments where she truly mattered. Scenarios where she was able to craft a tale for herself and be freed of her provincial confines. Or fantasies of a world that wasn't covered in filth and forgotten in disrepair. But most of all, Lynara dreamed for a _purpose;_ besidesgettingmen their drinks and scrubbing floors with raw rubbed knees and knuckles. Deep down the young woman knew that she would most likely never escape the life she led, but she also knew that what she had was mediocre and she wished for _change_.

With slightly glazed over eyes, Lynara observed her handy work- the small pile of chopped logs- and let her mind once more return to the task at hand. With steady hands the young maid hefted the wood into her shawl-draped arms, and turned to go back inside of the tavern . . . but something stopped her.

It was a tingling at the base of her spine; traveling silently up from the soles of her feet, to the tips of her fingers and sensitive scalp that rested beneath her curly head of black hair. The feeling was neither pleasant nor uncomfortable, and yet it gave the maid pause. With unseeing brown eyes she stared off into the evening darkness, feeling a strange panic begin to take hold of her gut; her earlier confidence abandoned.

Someone was _watching_ her.

Lynara didn't know _how_ she knew this with such clarity, but she did. And the young woman immediately began to back away from the shadows, keeping her ears peeled for any sign that the one watching her would try to come nearer. As the maid took a final step, she found her back pressed firmly against the side of the tavern, and quickly shifted her attention to where the glowing side-door was located. With a now shaking hand, she reached for the handle and flung it open as far as it would go. And as the warm light of the inner hearths spread across the alleyway like a purifying wave, Lynara felt her breath catch in her throat. She was afraid of what kind of person she would find in the darkness, lurking . . . _waiting_ for her. . .

But there was nothing . . . not a man or a woman, nor a stray leaf. All was as it should have been, but the feeling still stayed with the wary maid.

With a heart that threatened to beat out of her chest, Lynara shouldered her pile of wood, and with a last glance backwards re-entered the tavern. Though she could have sworn as she kicked the door shut behind her that she could hear someone or _something_ calling out to her . . . _laughing_.

* * *

"Where have you been girl?"

It was the first thing Lynara heard as she quickly placed the logs down and began to feed several into the orange and red tinted flames in the grate. Only moments before the barmaid had rushed back onto the main floor of the bar to fix the fire as had been her original goal. But now she internally cursed as she lifted a wary brown gaze up to regard the man that was towering over her where she currently knelt near the ashes.

The Master of the Tavern was a rotund man with an eternal flushed complexion and a nose redder then a cherry. After years of hitting his own store of liquor this was a given, and was evident to all who beheld the older man. His wife had chided him about it many a time.

Lynara knew she was in trouble by the Masters' tone of voice, but it was positively _confirmed_ when she finally met his beady gaze.

"I had trouble out in the alley." The white lie came out easier than freshly churned butter, and for that the maid was grateful. As a general rule, she was no good at lying. But apparently she still looked shaken from her anxious retreat, for the man seemed to believe her.

"Did some scrapper try to get comfy with ya?" Though it was spoken with little delicacy, Lynara knew that he was genuinely concerned. Though the Master was a rough man, he also protected those who he held in his employ . . . well, from everyone but himself.

"No sir," she said with a blank face. "I was able to frighten him away with the ax. I promise it isn't a problem."

This caused the portly man's eyes to grow exceedingly large. "You did _wha_?"

"He wasn't a customer. And he was acting strangely. I did what I thought I needed to." The lies were flowing past her lips before she could think better of it, and she instantly wondered at the cause for the sudden yarns. The girl had never been one to fabricate the truth. So why was she doing so now? Though the lie would garner her a far better result than telling him she had lingered due to the fear of _someone_ watching her from the shadows, it was still wrong.

"Well, he won't _ever_ be a customer now that my barmaid has threatened him with a bleeding ax!"

Lynara returned her eyes back to the fire as she set another piece into the mild inferno.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

"Exactly!" His eyes grew even wider than before, bugging out of his head like a fish out of water, as he interrupted her. "You didn't _think_ , girl!"

Lynara was silent as the tirade began, and though she visibly cringed in all the right places for the Master's benefit, she paid no attention to his actual words. It was true that he was usually a fair man when it came to work and pay, but there were also times when he would lose his temper. At such times, he would either yell himself into a stupor of barking plum-faced wrath, _or_ in the rare case, he would deliver a lashing to the person who had angered him. And since most of the help around the tavern were women with nowhere else to go, he went unchallenged in the cruel punishments.

It seemed like such an outcome was well on the way, if the Master's tone was anything to go by. Lynara continued to stare at the flames as she waited for the man to either finish his singular yelling match, or drag her into the back room for a whipping, and felt the fire dancing in the giant fireplace begin to warm her. She would need it for what was to come . . . or at least that was what she thought . . . until the Master's voice died down momentarily. Shocked, the maid once more lifted her eyes to see him. He was still obviously livid, but there seemed to be a semblance of restraint behind his alcohol flushed features.

"I'd give ya a proper beating right now and be done with it," he said gruffly. "If our high class guest didn't wish for your company."

Lynara's expression immediately turned to one of confusion. Why would a guest be asking for her? Especially when Claudria, the other barmaid working that evening, was so willing to flash glimpses of her bodily virtues at anyone who crossed her path. And furthermore, why would the Master agree to such a thing when he had always honored her wish of remaining untouched?

"I don't visit the men." It was spoken as a reminder, though Lynara knew with a sickening feeling that the Master had not forgotten at all. "Claudria and Lexya are here, and they are far more beautiful than me."

"True," the Master agreed. "But our guest asked for _you_. And even you can't deny a nobleman what he wants."

 _A nobleman?_ She thought, startled. Though it quickly turned to anger.

"I am not cattle to be bartered with! He is mistaken."

"Do you think a gentleman of _bloody_ _ranking_ class would make such a _stupid_ mistake, girl? He asked for you, and he will get _you_!" With this, he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her from the floor, causing her to cry out in both pain and shock. "You _will_ _not_ ruin my tavern by displeasing a Lord! He could buy or destroy my livelihood without blinking a sodding eyelash!"

Lynara felt cold hard panic begin to clamp down on her, and knew that her voice was rising anxiously. "I won't become a whore for you!"

"Then I'll dump you on the bloody quay and let the sailors have their way with you!" He snapped, dragging Lynara along with him towards the staircase that led up to the private rooms. "You either do as our guest asks of you, or you do as the dock rats would please. Now, what will it be?"

Lynara knew that tears of loathing were clouding the corners of her dark eyes, but she couldn't stop them. She had been offered two _impossible_ choices, and there was no third option. She wasn't strong enough to physically fight the Master, nor was she fast enough to outrun the rabid men that the docks produced. If she refused she would be homeless and without a proper income. _And_ if this noble decided to make the Master pay for the slight, all of the other women that lived in the Tavern would be turned out on the streets of Budapest, to wander aimlessly at the desolate cuff of the Adriatic . . . Her own problems she might have managed, but the maid couldn't purposely cause others harm on her behalf. Lynara was trapped and her morals were about to be horrendously compromised.

There had been times when the young woman had hated the Master for his temper and cruelties, but in that moment, as he made her choose, she truly _despised_ him. If she had been able to hurt him right then, she would have. But she _couldn't_ , so the maid hung her head in shame and let the ghastly Tavern keeper drag her towards the best room at the end of the hall. She despaired in her predicament and instantly felt her blood grow cold in her veins, as the portly man knocked on the door, and then upon hearing a simple command to enter, cracked the door and shoved her in. She didn't have time to see the Master's flushed red face as the door quickly slammed behind her, but she knew even then that the detestable man was smiling.

* * *

As the door closed firmly behind her, Lynara felt her heart jump into her throat as she was thrown into the room. For a second, she could only submit to the reckless thumping of her heartbeat and the cold sweat that had begun to form on her neck and chest. But then, she stopped herself and fought to regain her composure.

The room was truly the grandest that the tavern had to offer, with flattering deep red drapes and furnishings, and the best of bobbles that befitted a humble parlor or sitting room. The fact that this area was being used at all was surprising. Only the finest visitors were granted free access to this chamber, and most of the customers of the establishment were poor men who merely came in to get some ale. . .

The sitting room was currently only lit by candles; a very soft and dim light compared to that of the main floor- and Lynara was initially limited by it. For several moments her vision refused to aid her, as she fought to locate the guest that would ruin her. But then as the seconds ticked by the young maid grew accustomed to the mellower light of the chamber. In the darkness the red decor almost looked black, and the window curtain billowed slightly in the chilly autumn air. Someone had opened the window, and Lynara shivered with both cold and uncertainty.

"Would you prefer for the window to be closed, my dear?"

Lynara's eyes snapped to the corner where the drinking table and chairs had been placed, and had her breath catch in her throat. Though she had known that she wasn't alone in the room, it was startling to actually hear the voice. Though as she stared at the figure sitting at the table, illuminated by the candles' glow, she felt the nudges of recognition begin to tickle at her mind.

The man who sat at the table was truly handsome, with fair skin and capturing blue eyes that currently shone in a deeper shade. His hair was long and darker than a starless midnight; pulled becomingly into a ponytail held by a beautiful golden clasp, with several stray wisps flying loose to frame his uniquely sculpted face. In his ears he wore small golden circlets; matching the ornament that held his hair with such care. He was dressed in black clothing that fitted his form flatteringly- the dress of a lord without a doubt. But it wasn't his clothing that defined his birth status, but rather his poise and elegant stature. One would have had to have been blind to mistake him for anything but a nobleman . . . nor ever forget the strange aura that wafted around him like a second skin.

The woman instantly remembered him.

This gentleman had visited the tavern several times in the last handful of months. He always left generous tips, ordered the finest wine that could be offered, and nursed it from a private corner of the bar. . . Though the barmaid had noticed the last time, after he had left, that his cup was still completely full- as if he hadn't so much as taken a sip.

He had seemed cordial enough, from what the young woman had seen, but she had never actually spoken to him other than simple greetings and given things such as, 'enjoy' or 'thank you for coming sir'. . . So, Lynara was even more confused than before.

"I am fine, sir," she said, in answer to his inquiry.

He studied her for a moment before he spoke again. "Do you remember me?"

His voice was deep and rich, with a full Romanian accent- making the words seem almost lyrical as they floated in the candlelit chamber. Lynara found it somewhat distracting, but internally pushed off the miniature stupor as she nodded in the affirmative. Yes, she recalled him well, though she had never learned his name or who he actually was.

After a second to center herself, the maid prompted apprehensively. "The Master of this Tavern says that you wanted to speak with me, sir?"

From where he sat, the man chuckled softly; a closed-mouthed smile growing on his lips as he watched her with an unwavering gaze. "Does such a prospect frighten you?"

Yet again he answered her with a question of his own; a strange tactic indeed.

"Only if it entails something questionable." Lynara had said this before she could think better of it, and she immediately regretted her blunt words. But to her relief the strange nobleman seemed to take no offence from the statement. Instead he continued to look at her with intent blue eyes, fingering a glass that sat upon the table top.

"Won't you sit, my dear? You cannot possibly be comfortable standing there indefinitely."

Lynara shook her head nervously. "I'd rather stay where I am if it's all the same to you."

At this the man lifted a single eyebrow, his gaze both amused and challenging. "You needn't fear on my account, little one. I don't bite. . . _Often."_

"I-Is that supposed to reassure me?"

"No," he answered truthfully, before gesturing with his right hand to the seat across from him at the table. When he showed no signs of saying more or accepting her refusal, Lynara begrudgingly moved towards the proffered chair. She never took her eyes away from him as she slowly eased into the chair, but she noted that he looked pleased when she was finally in her seat.

When she was settled he inclined his head to her ever so slightly.

"Allow me to introduce myself: I am Count Vladislaus Dracula." The power behind the title made the barmaid's hair stand up on the back of her neck.

"Lynara," she returned hesitantly, internally hating the fact that she had had to tell him.

His blue eyes twinkled with an unreadable spark as the shadows danced against the handsome plains of his face. "Lynara: a beautiful name well suited for a beautiful woman."

Despite her best efforts, the young woman blushed- coloring her darker skin in a splattering of pinkish brown. "I wouldn't go that far, sir."

He gave her a pleasant and uncanny smile. "I would."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys! ^^ I feel like I need to do a bit of explaining for this. . . So as some of you may know, I have been a huge Van Helsing (film) fan since it came out in 2004, as well as a Dracula buff. I love the father vampire in all his forms and interpretations. And Richard Roxburgh's performance is by far one of my favorites.

I realized that I have never written a story for _any_ version of Dracula, and quickly decided to remedy that.

Originally I had thought that this story would be 4 to 5 parts long, but the plot keeps growing in my mind. So know that I know what I'm doing, but have no idea how much work it will take or how long it'll take to reach a conclusion.

This story _will_ differ from the canon events of Van Helsing, and Lynara very special to me. ^^

Anyway, I'm seriously nervous about posting this one. . . It's personal and I really am afraid of not doing Dracula justice. O_O He's the bae and I wouldn't want to do anything but my best as a tribute. lols

What do you guys think? Did I do alright? Are you enjoying the story/writing thus far? Any ideas for why Dracula wants to speak with Lynara? XD


	2. Chapter 2

**Dancing into the Night: Part Two**

* * *

 _His blue eyes twinkled with an unreadable spark as the shadows danced against the handsome plains of his face. "Lynara: a beautiful name well suited for a beautiful woman."_

 _Despite her best efforts, the young woman blushed- coloring her darker skin in a splattering of pinkish brown. "I wouldn't go that far, sir."_

 _He gave her a pleasant and uncanny smile. "I would."_

* * *

It seemed like a lifetime that ticked by, as Lynara took in the man's meaning, but in truth it was only a couple of seconds that passed between them. The young woman knew that her confusion shone clearly on the darkly shaded skin of her face, but still she could not reign it in.

Though she wasn't a homely or unfortunate looking young lady, she had never been considered beautiful by another, and this nobleman's open admittance immediately put her on edge. Was he lying to get into her good graces? Trying to flatter his way through her defenses and common sense so that only a compliant female would remain? Or did he truly mean what he said without devious strings attached? Lynara studied his handsome face for a long moment, trying to see if she could guess his motives, but eventually gave up. Other than the earnest expression that currently lined his features, and the hint of a smile playing at the tips of his lips, there was nothing to go by. He was an empty page; voidless and impossible to read.

"You flatter me, Count," Lynara finally said quietly, shifting her dark eyes to the candles and then back to him. "But I must once more ask why you specifically wanted my company."

The Count, tipped back comfortably in his chair opposite the maid, gave a curious look. His blue eyes once more amused as he regarded her peaceably.

"Is it such a fantastical notion for a man to wish to be in the presence of a beautiful young lady?"

"But that's just it," she interjected with her brow unknowingly scrunched in thought- something that was not lost on the man. "I am not the most beautiful maid of this Tavern, sir. Nor am I versed in ways of pleasing or keeping company. Was my lord mistaken? I can call one of the other maids immediately-"

Lynara was cut off by the Count laughing; a deep throaty chuckle that seemed to fill up the entire room with an echo- despite the fact that such a sound repercussion was rather impossible. The young maid shivered against her best efforts not to. His voice was truly a unique one . . . not that she would have ever uttered such an admission aloud.

"My dear Lynara," he scolded gently, his laughter dying down into nothingness once more, as he used her name as if they were old friends. "So many protestations! It appears that with my secrecy I have made you uneasy." Before Lynara could move to object he lifted a single gloved hand, stopping her. "Please accept my apologies for any confusion, little one. It was not my intention to frighten you."

Despite his kind words, the barmaid still felt her heart beat uncertainly in her chest. . . Why when he sounded so sincere, did she still hear an unspoken threat? Why did she believe that he did not appear to be all he seemed? It troubled her greatly.

"I can go get the other maid Claudria, sir. She would be far better in knowing your needs." Lynara knew that she had already said this, but she felt the strange need to try again. The young woman didn't know why she felt the foreign heaviness take its toll on her heart, or why she distrusted the man who had only been polite. . . But something wasn't right, and her mind was filled with unrest.

"I appreciate your concern on my behalf," the words were almost mocking, as if he knew that her reasons were self-serving. "But there was no mistaking my request. The maid I wished to see is already sitting before me, and rather prettily too, I might add."

Lynara's brow furrowed, as she internally gulped. This was it. . . She was done for. She would be used, and her personal beliefs all but shattered.

"A-And . . . What exactly can I do for you?"

Here a calm mask flittered over the nobleman's face, making him less daunting than before- though Lynara's doubts still lingered, ever present in her conscious.

"I have heard tell that you are a storyteller of some expertise." He noted the young woman's look of complete surprise but continued without faltering his smooth cadence. "I would have you tell me a tale while I enjoy the beauty of this glorious autumn night."

The young woman's mouth hung open in a most unflattering way as she processed the completely harmless request. Her thoughts clashed most abusingly in her head as she tried to regain her composure. She had imagined countless nightmare sequences of where she was forced to bed with him, a thousand different ways that she and her moral standing would be compromised by a complete stranger. . . And it had all been for naught. Out of all of the possible things he would want of her, a story was absolutely the last thing she had even dared to comprehend. . . It was so _innocent_. So simple and unintrusive. Nothing at all like she had anticipated.

"A story?"

"Correct," he said lifting up the glass that he had been running his gloved fingers down since she had entered the Red Chamber, and finally took a sip from the contents. He made a mildly displeased face before pushing the cup towards her on the surface. A small ring of where the drink had sweated beaded along the flawless wood, and Lynara had to force herself to ignore it. She would undoubtedly end up cleaning the stain later, but for now she had to play the right and proper hostess . . . or rather, her best imitation of one.

"Here," the nobleman said as the goblet finally came to rest directly in front of her. "Drink. Keep your voice in good condition while you regale me."

"But it is your wine, sir."

"It is not to my particular . . . _tastes_." When she looked ready to argue more, he gestured easily to the cup. "Please. I shall not be consuming it, and it would be a shame to let your finest wine go to waste."

Lynara made no move for a long moment, before she raised a shaky hand to the goblet and lifted it hesitantly to her dry lips. As she took a sip from the contents, she had the strangest feeling of dread fill the pit of her stomach, and almost gagged on the liquid.

From where he was studying her, the Count looked upon her markedly. "Is something the matter?"

Lynara was still for a breath too long before she shook her head, making her dark curls bounce ever so slightly around her solemn face. There truthfully wasn't anything off about the wine; it tasted exquisite and was blended to perfection. Though there was something off-putting about the action of the nobleman giving it to her. . . Not that such a distinction made the smallest bit of sense, to the girl as she forced her misgivings away.

"No, sir. I am fine."

The man watched as her hands still shook in the candlelight; the vision of the subtle cold droplets of sweat that clung to her partially exposed neck, and the high tempo pulse that nearly deafened him with its unnerved pattern against the hollow of her chest cavity. It was clear that she _wasn't_ fine, nor that she was comfortable, but he kept his silence on the matter and gave her all of his attention.

"I am ready whenever you are, my dear Lynara. Begin at your convenience."

" . . . But what story would you have me tell?"

"One of your own choosing. It is of little matter to me."

" . . . As you wish."

Lynara shifted in her chair, then pushed the goblet to her left on the table, before her brow furrowed in concentration. For several long minutes she sat in the calm of her own inner sanctum before she began to speak. At first her voice was soft and unsure against the faint calling of the wind coming from the opened window. But as she drew deeper into her story the woman's voice became smooth and decided. As the tale unwove before her, the timid tavern maid all but disappeared, and in her place sat a lady of stature and bearing. Her deep brown eyes sparked with understanding and intelligence; her face that had seemed bound by only one or two expressions now flowed with each and every emotion of the story- her voice rising and free-falling as the feeling of the piece swallowed her whole. And all the while, Dracula watched and listened- never once did his gaze leave her as the hours passed and the night began to wane into nothingness.

Time was lost upon the two who leisured in the Red Chamber, and all the world seemed to hold its breath to hear the story in its full glory.

And finally, after many hours, Lynara uttered the words that closed the tale and brought the unearthly moment to its conclusion.

"The end."

As the night had passed them, Dracula had gotten more comfortable and shed his long black cloak and gloves to favor laying on the far loveseat. He had been lounging against it for most of the night, but it was only now that the young maid realized it. A light blush fell on her cheeks, and she quickly looked away- much to the man's amusement.

For a time they sat in mutual silence before the Count broke it, his blue eyes full of emotions that Lynara didn't recognize as he unabashedly stared at her.

"Those who spoke of your gift of the creative arts told nothing but truth. . . You are as talented as they swore to me."

"It is kind of you to think so."

"There is nothing kind about me," he said without preamble, as he smoothly moved to a sitting position on the loveseat. "Your passion for your story was most intriguing."

Lynara raised a hand to the back of her neck, as she felt embarrassment quickly shade her again. It was true that she loved to tell and create stories, but they were almost always for her own enjoyment. From time to time she would grace the guests of the Tavern with one while she served behind the counter and poured drinks. But that was only when it was a slow night or the Tavern Master was in a good enough mood to allow it. But this had been different. She had never had someone respond so ardently to one of her tales before, and most certainly not for such a long one.

Lynara would have most definitely pondered upon the nobleman's strange acceptance for much longer, if said man hadn't spoken at that exact moment- bringing her back to the present.

"I thank you for your willingness to humor me and the _lovely_ fable," he said, rising completely from the loveseat to stand gracefully before her. "But it is time for me to depart."

Lynara looked out the window of the Red Room, and noticed that the inky sky was beginning to turn periwinkle, and light was beginning to peek around the edges of the nighttime clouds. It was almost sunrise. She had been with him for a full night.

"T-Thank you for coming, sir." She remembered the second-nature phrase as she watched him elegantly flip his cloak back around his strong shoulders. "It has been an interesting night. . ."

He gave her a vivacious grin as he moved over to her, and gently picked up one of her hands into his own. Though he once more wore his gloves, Lynara gasped as he touched her. She wasn't sure whether it was the material or the Count . . . but he was _freezing_ cold.

"It most certainly has, little Lynara," he agreed, before he lowered his lips to her knuckles. The contact lasted longer than was deemed proper for acquaintances; his lips lingering on her flesh voraciously making her hair stand on end. There was something dangerous about the gesture . . . something dark and almost _. . . hungry._ And it made Lynara rapidly withdraw her hand from his.

For a flicker it seemed as if anger burned across his blue eyes, but just as quickly it was gone, replaced by the pleasant expression from before.

"I shall bid you goodnight, my dear."

"G-Goodnight."

He bowed his head to her, before looking up at her under his eyelids. "Until _another_ time."

Lynara held her breath as the Count walked past her and exited out of the door, leaving her alone in the Red Chamber. And it was only as she watched him depart down the lane outside of the Tavern, that she let a shaky exhale flow from her. She watched him until he disappeared around the far corner of the street, and sat back down in her chair, as all the anxiousness of the evening overwhelmed her. She was grateful that it was all over, and let the first smile of that night creep up to her tired face. . . Though if she had known that he would return the following night in ask for another story, she might not have been so quick to celebrate.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Here marks chapter two, my dears! ^^ This chapter was mostly to set up the plot for the remainder of the fanfic. Hopefully it wasn't too boring for you guys. ;)

I would like to personally thank everyone who has read, faved, reviewed, or watched this story. It truly means the world to me and I cannot tell you how grateful I truly am. ^^

Thank you: **Scarlet Empress, DreamBubbles, Remember,** and the lovely **Guest** who left me lovely reviews and their thoughts. *hugs you all* I was so happy to get your feedback!

Soooo, any thoughts on what Dracula is up to? Did this chapter make anything more clearer for anyone? Or are you all still puzzling out the vampire's motives? *laughs*

Haahah, love you guys! See you next chapter!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Dancing into the Night: Part Three**

* * *

It was sometime in the mid-afternoon hours, as Lynara donned her well-worn shawl and accepted the basket that her fellow maid placed into her calloused hands. The dark skinned woman smiled at the other, nodding to her as she hooked the basket in the crook of her elbow without another thought.

"You remember what the Master and Mistress wanted, Lynara?"

Lynara nodded as she opened the door with her free hand that didn't clutch at her wrap. "Yes, Lexya; I remember. I'll be back soon. Oh, and by the by. . . Be sure to stop filling up Petrov's tankard after the next ten minutes, otherwise he'll be too drunk to walk home and will start crying and serenading you."

Lexya, the woman in question, who was red haired, severely freckled and was a solid two years younger than Lynara, began to laugh. "Don't you worry. I'll take care of Old Man Petrov. I hate seeing the ugly bugger cry, and his singing is even worse."

Lynara laughed too as she bid Lexya another goodbye and set off into the bleak afternoon. Though it was the middle of the day, the sun's rays were weak and hidden well behind clouds of the deepest grays and blacks. It hadn't rained in two days, but the sky had long since been threatening a downpour to rival a miniature typhoon. And the young woman prayed that she would make it back to the safety of the Tavern before the onslaught hit.

Though, despite the lingering presence of the storm clouds, the port of Budapest was still as crowded and lively as ever. It was a market day and on every cobbled street and byway a seller offered their wares. Seeing as it was a slummier part of the city, most of the prices were cheap and affordable. To most this would have been a right and proper turn off. But surprisingly, the things offered in the port ways were of nicer quality. Sure, it was no royal assortment, but the goods were quaint and for the most part well kept. Fish was fresh each day, newly baked bread and meat pies were served at several of the better shops and cafes, and bobbles and other items imported from Italy, Istanbul, and many of the other neighboring countries of Europe were sold freely. It was an age of trade and expansion, and here was no exception to the global change. Each month both passenger and cargo ships docked in the quay of Budapest, for it was the doorway to Hungary as well as Romania, and the land and culture were vast.

Lynara, being a storyteller, had always been one to admire the hustle and detail of the port. But today she paid it no mind as she rushed through the alleyways towards a particular destination. Though it was daytime and she hadn't been given a time limit for her absence to the markets, the maid wished desperately to be indoors again. Not only for the rain that would soon come, but the rippling winds that blew through her as if she was made of paper. Her shorter, curly hair waved about her head viciously, and her face and hands were nearly frozen. But instead of thinking of her now pink face or the harsh howling in her ears, the young barmaid thought on her current predicament with deeper contemplation.

It had been quite some time since the Count had first requested Lynara's presence in the Red Chamber and had asked for her talents, and yet he still remained a frequent customer. Each night he came with the want for a new story. No unsavory attached strings, nor unwanted advances past the slight touch here or there, or the flirtatious words or phrases that he sometimes used. But despite his simple wants, Lynara still felt her pulse quicken when she entered into his company. The uncertainty and misgivings remained intact, in spite of his kind interest in her and his gently teasing words.

At first Lynara had opted to trust her initial instincts no matter what he might say or do. But as the nightly storytelling continued unhindered, the young woman had started to feel conflicted. The Count had never given her a reason to be mistrustful. He seemed to genuinely take pleasure in their time together, and had even spoken to the Tavern Master on her behalf to make sure that she was allowed to sleep longer, due to her late hours with him.

Lynara found her nightly visitor to be charming, mysterious, and engaging- as well as extremely attractive. And the maid longed to like him past her typical moderate state of indulgence. But try as she might, her discomfort stayed. The Count wasn't all that he seemed . . . he was hiding something from her. And it made her wary of him. She was a believer of truth, and he clearly held secrets. . .

Lynara _feared_ secrets. For she had seen firsthand the troubles that they could create.

Though as the nightly rendezvouses became a prominent part of the girl's life, she found that she was unable to suppress _all_ of her positive reactions and emotions. And the Count had happily taken encouragement from it.

As days turned to weeks, their interactions became more casual than before. Now they spoke not only of Lynara's stories, but of other topics as well. From the daily events of the Tavern itself, to Budapest and the weather- they discussed it all. And the Count had acted as if in rapture when he had found out that the young woman took stock in knowledge and had long since gained her own opinions. She might have been a barmaid, but she wasn't lacking or without merit or fact based impressions of the world around her. She could read and write (though had refused to divulge who had passed such gifts on to a mere tavern girl) and wasn't flighty in her ideals or beliefs, which intrigued him to no end.

Lynara, being a common woman with a life of drudgery, didn't think that her thoughts were of too much consequence. But the nobleman seemed absolutely delighted by them. He would often look pensive when she answered his inquiries, and almost always had another question to tack on after she had once again spoken. And it was at times like these, when the maid wondered if a simple story was all he truly craved.

Lynara shook her head firmly as she now rounded the final corner to the Apothecary (her destination) and felt the first drops of rain fall across her shoulders. Though she had thought on the Count's motives every day since she had met him, now was neither the time nor place to linger on the details. She had to pick up the Tavern Master's poultice for his gout, and a special herb for the Mistress's migraine. And she had to do it before she was soaked to the bone from the budding storm.

The maid quickly rushed to the door of the Apothecary and entered without preamble. Above her a small bell chimed, announcing her entrance as she came to stand in the medicinal shop.

The air was thick and humid as the young woman drew further in, making her gag from the potent odors that wafted up to meet her burning nostrils. Spices, herbs, tonics, salves, poultices, bandages, and even the odd medieval spell (that didn't work); it was all there. And Lynara let her brown eyes take it all in as she scuttled to the counter that rested at the back of the establishment.

There she was met with the sight of the kind old man who ran the shop and made the cures. Lynara had entered the Apothecary many times in the past, but she found that she could never recall the poor man's name.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said clearly as she stopped before him.

The weathered older man returned the greeting and offered her a smile. "Welcome! What ails you? Besides death or a broken heart, I can work wonders on almost anything!"

Lynara felt a bubble of humor rise in her chest as she grinned. He was a nice man, and was truly good at his trade. "Nothing ails me, sir, but tired feet." When he chuckled, she continued, "But I have come to gather treatments for my Master and his wife."

The man nodded in understanding. "What's the name of your Master?"

Lynara told him and the herbalist quickly pulled out a list that housed his current orders. When he found that the items she sought had already been paid for, he quickly excused himself to his back room to prepare them for her. He explained to her the wait would be only a couple of minutes, before he offered her a piece of bread (she declined) and he disappeared beyond her view.

The young woman smiled to herself as she began to wander through the shop, curiously looking at each of the roots and bottles to be found. Though the smell of the herbs mixed together was strong enough to make one sick, on their own the cures weren't so bad. It was a wonder that such small articles could help ease such awful things. That a single plant mixed with another substance could stop bleeding, or heal a rash, or help stiff joints when the pain had long since been unbearable.

Science had never been one of her strong points, but Lynara's respect for the study and practice of the subject was unquestionable.

The maid silently rounded another of the tables that held the wonderments, and would have kept exploring if something hadn't, at that exact moment, stopped her in her tracks. She had assumed that she was alone in the shop, but it seemed she had been mistaken. This might have not been such a shock, if it wasn't for the feeling of dread that instantly rose to her conscious. In looking at the figure that stood opposite the barmaid, one might have questioned the severe reaction she had. For it was but a woman, dressed in a traveling cloak of a deep forest green, with no weapon nor escort. But Lynara immediately took a step backwards, away from her.

The dark skinned girl felt the stone cold tendrils of fear grip her heart, as a shuddering chill ran from the base of her spine all the way to her toes. She had experienced this sensation before; this unspeakable fright and uncertainty. But the last time she had felt it, had been in the dark alleyway outside of the Tavern. . . But now, in broad daylight it reoccurred a million times stronger. And before Lynara could think better of it, she addressed the woman.

"Why are you following me?"

At her blatant question, the other woman cocked her head to the side and a small sound- similar to a hiss- escaped from the confines of her hood. Though the Apothecary was well lit, Lynara was still unable to see details of the stranger's face from beneath it.

"You speak out of turn, little bar _whore_." The voice was smooth and sensual, but also deadly. . . There was something missing from it; as if the person held no true emotion . . . a shadow of what true feeling was supposed to be.

Lynara's brown eyes stared at the woman, her brow turned down negatively. But before she could reply to the offensive statement, the stranger pushed back her hood.

She was absolutely beautiful, with stunning green eyes and hair longer and redder than Lexya's. But despite her physical perfection, Lynara once more felt as if something was missing. There was no feeling behind the woman's expression, and it was truly unnerving to behold.

"Are you speechless, girl?"

Lynara frowned as she took another half-step away from the woman. "Not for any good reason."

Now it was the other woman's turn to frown. "Such fire. . . It's not a wonder that you'll be an old maid."

"Being alone holds no horror for me," Lynara said firmly, before she once more asked, "Now tell me: why are you following me?"

The flame haired woman took a step towards her then, making the dark haired lass draw in a gasp. Though in appearance Lynara looked as if she was stronger and heavier than the other, the barmaid's instincts told her that she would lose if it came down to a fight against the beauty. She was dangerous . . . and if the girl had to guess . . . _depraved_ to the point of madness _._

"You needn't be afraid, little whore," the woman said with a large toothy smile. "I'm not going to hurt you."

 _Yet._

The word seemed to hang unspoken in the air and both women heard it well.

"Then why?"

The red-beauty's face changed to a solemn mask in but a moment, and her posture morphed as well. "I have come to warn you."

"Against what?"

"The one with whom you keep company each night," came the hissed reply. "You cannot hope to please him, little whore. Run while you still can. . . Or I will _make you_."

Lynara felt her heart rise painfully in her throat. The Count? How did this horrible woman know him? And what did she mean by _pleasing him_?

"I have nowhere to run to," the barmaid returned with a surprisingly calm voice. "And threats have no hold with me."

"Then I shall make no threats. Instead I will give you promises." Here the woman's green eyes glowed with a spark of hellfire- redder than her hair, marking her for the monster that she truly was. "Have no more dealings with the Count, or I shall rip out your still beating heart."

The words and the picture they painted were horrific and far-fetched, but Lynara knew that the woman was not exaggerating. It was indeed a _promise_ , and the maid felt her heart that had been racing in her throat, drop all the way down to her stomach.

The woman watched Lynara for a long moment, before a smirk took hold of her perfect face. She could sense the girl's bodily changes and it was pleasing to her.

"I am so glad we understand one another, little whore," she said with a purr as she replaced her hood up over her head. "Pray that this is our first and _only_ meeting."

And with that, the red-haired monster was gone; the only sign that she had been there at all, was the faint tinkling of the shop bell as the door opened and closed as if of its own accord.

Lynara stood sedentary long moments after the fiend's departure, her back straight as a rail as her legs shook aimlessly. Though she was out of danger the fear of the encounter remained, making her earlier need of being sick return tenfold.

And this was how the Apothecary Keeper found her several minutes later. Face drawn into a blank expression, hands clenched, fingernails digging into the flesh of her skin where bloody pinpricks now sprang forth. . . But it was the strange gleam in the barmaid's dark eyes that made the man worry for her. It was almost as if she had seen a _ghost_.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Hey guys! Sadly there was no Dracula this chapter, but it was extremely important so I can't feel too bad. ^^ Also, any fan of the film Van Helsing should be able to figure out who the red haired woman is. But if you can't then I promise you it shall be revealed down the line, so no worries.

Next chapter is the beginning of the turning point for the rest of the story. And it shall be Lynara/Dracula central, so stayed tuned. ;)

Also, I would like to quickly give a shout out to everyone who has read, faved, watched, or left a review for this story thus far. It has been both flattering and an incredible boost. I cannot thank you guys enough! I honestly am horrible at replying these days, but know that I read and cherish each and every review. Now on to the individual thanking. :D

Thank you: **alexc1209** , **Remember** (your wonderful praise and insights are a true delight have helped me in my creative process), **madame thome** , **DreamBubbles** , **Onlyndreams145** , **Scarlet Empress** , and the **two Guests** who also left lovely reviews. *hugs you all*

You all have my gratitude. ^_^

See you guys next chapter! Fingers crossed the writing goes fast, cause I love this story and I don't want you guys to wait too long. Hahahaha!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Dancing into the Night: Part Four**

* * *

It was well after 6 o'clock in the evening and the sky was _crying_. Large, tearful gales of cold liquidation hit the cobbled streets and buildings mercilessly, as the storm grew into a tempest. The wind howled loudly as it whipped about, cackling at the world as it was eagerly accompanied by loud peals of thunder and strikes of the brightest lightning. It had been cold earlier; but now it was nearly unbearably frosty. The storm had started nearly three hours prior, which meant that the streets were now barren of all life. All the vendors had long since packed up, and the passersby had retreated to their own homes and businesses for safety from the elements. Save for the unlucky figure that currently trudged through the rain on her own. But unlike most, if they had been in her shoes, Lynara was oblivious to the frigid deluge as it soaked her from head to foot. For she was lost solely to her thoughts, and was currently uncaring to her surroundings.

It had been three and a half hours since Lynara had been threatened by the red-haired woman, and her heart had yet to mollify. The kindly Apothecary Keeper had insisted she stay indoors until she was better composed, and the maid had made no objections. So, after hours of sitting by the elder man's hearth, drinking herbal tea and being wrapped up in a woolen blanket, Lynara had returned to her senses. The man had been reluctant for her to travel alone in the storm, but she had been firm. She needed to return to the Tavern, and the longer she waited the worse it would be.

So the gentleman had made her drink several sips of Absinthe to keep her warm, and walked the young woman to the door. But as she opened it to depart, he momentarily stopped her; placing a thick winter coat around her shoulders. He had smiled at her when the girl had immediately tried to give it back, and insisted she take it.

"I wouldn't be much of a Healer if I let you catch your death." He had explained, and Lynara had thanked him for everything he had done, before she entered out into the cold night without another word.

Now as she drew ever closer to the Tavern, she fought back the mental numbness that had started taking hold of her soul and scowled. The threat that the red-haired woman had passed hung over the barmaid's head like a halo of dread; and though the she-demon was long gone, the fear she had brought with her still remained.

Lynara didn't like it. She had known nightmares and despair in the past, but she had always gotten away from them. And she vowed that she would do so now. The young woman squared her weary shoulders as she pushed herself to go faster against the onslaught; her jaw clenched angrily as she came close to her home.

She _would not_ live in fear, nor hide away in fright like a helpless child. But she would not be idle either. She would deal with this newest problem like she did with any other: with the power of her mind and the strength of her resolve. She would make the decision that would keep her and the other girls at the Tavern safe, no matter what she might face. She had survived hell before, and she _would_ do so again.

With this in mind, Lynara strode the final street lengths of her journey and walked towards the familiar entrance of the establishment with new purpose- even as she felt the cold sink into her very bones. No one could lay claim to her life, but her. And it was well past the time that this fact was made known.

* * *

The Tavern was abuzz with customers and life, as Lynara entered the drinking hall and shut the large door firmly behind her. It seemed that most of the men here had stayed due to an unwillingness to return out into the storm, and the Tavern Master was having pity on them. . . Or rather their silver and copper pieces.

The young woman let her solemn brown eyes graze over the faces in the room, taking in the regulars along with the newcomers, as she shivered violently. Though the large winter coat was the best that Lynara had ever worn, it was completely soaked through and had long since lost any warmth or protection from the cold. For a moment, the girl leaned against the rough surface of the Tavern's main door- fatigue flowing over her like a heat wave. Before she pushed herself away from it and began to slowly walk towards the back rooms on the first floor. All of the barmaids had sleeping quarters just off the kitchen, and Lynara knew that if she stayed in her wet clothes any longer that she would be sick- and she knew all too well that the Tavern Master would call no Doctor or Healer to attend her if she fell ill.

So with sluggish steps, the maid trudged through the crowd of rowdy men, her eyes focused on something only she could see, as she left large puddles of water in her wake. To her relief, no one paid her much mind as she passed them, and the girl was hopeful of getting to the back room unnoticed. She gave a small, raspy exhale just as she was about to pass the Bar counter and be in the clear. But before she made it to safety, she felt a strong grip latch onto her shoulder painfully. Lynara's eyes momentarily closed ruefully as anticipation filled her chest. She knew this hand and was aware of what it _meant_.

Turning around, she looked at the red faced Tavern Master without emotion, though her gut was already churning.

"WHERE IN THE BLOODY GREAT BLAZES HAVE _YOU_ BEEN!?" He barked angrily, getting spittle on the brown woman's face, as well as drawing the attention of the nearby customers with his yelling.

"The storm started when I got to the shop, and the Apothecary Keeper wouldn't allow me to go out into it at first," Lynara said truthfully, as her whole body shook from the cold plastered to her chilled skin. "I'm sorry for being so late, I didn't mean to cause any problems-"

"WELL YOU BLOODY WELL DID!" The rotund man bellowed, his already red face turning a deeper scarlet, just like it had so many times before all hell broke loose. "WE'VE BEEN SHORT HANDED ALL EVENING! AND THAT DAMNED NOBLEMAN HAS BEEN WAITIN' FOR YEH FOR NEARLY AN HOUR AND HAS BEEN BREATHIN' DOWN MY NECK! AND NOW! _**NOW**_ YOU'VE DRIPPED WATER ALL OVER MY BLEEDIN' FLOORS AND STRUT IN HERE LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE!"

Lynara felt her tongue begin to form around protests- ways to defend herself from what she knew was coming- but from the mad glint in the elephantine man's eyes, it was obvious he was beyond reasoning with. She could smell the foul stain of alcohol on his breath as he stood directly in her space, and fought the urge to vomit. He was bordering on drunk and was furious. . . Which could only mean one thing.

So the young barmaid remained silent as he rounded on her, her eyes already void of life, as she waited for the first blow. . . And it came several moments later in the form of a slap. The impact of the hit made Lynara's head snap to the side, and the blinding stinging sensation that followed it was enough to make her eyes water. The sound of the hit echoed in the now quieted Tavern- the customer's watching silently as the barmaid was brought up short and the Tavern Master made his literal mark. Though it was cruel and the scene made a handful of the regulars uncomfortable enough to turn away, no one came to the girl's aid. For it was a common enough spectacle, in places such as this.

And despite the unpleasant moment, Lynara didn't utter a sound as the strike landed. It was painful, but she had enough pride to stand firm and accept the hit. The Tavern Master had given her far worse in the past. This slap was a considerate love tap compared to the belt lashings that Lexya had received when she had spilled the ale keg several months prior, or the time Claudria had taken a swing at one of the customer's after he had purposefully tripped her.

It was still hurtful, but the maid could handle the slap . . . though at the moment her fatigue and the violent shivering was making her body act strangely. . . She felt almost faint as her cheek stung and her head swam in a sea of disconnected thoughts.

. . . And then the Tavern Master raised his hand into a fist, the fire of fury burning even brighter than before.

"YOU DARE STAN' THERE AND STARE AT ME LIKE THA!?" Though Lynara hadn't purposefully challenged him, the obese man was obviously taking her inability to fall as a sign of defiance. Though the young woman was past hearing him, as she felt the goosebumps rise all along her legs and forearms. She was freed from the fear of being hurt; her brown eyes never leaving the Tavern Master as the fist came flying towards her. She would not give him the satisfaction of her submission. She would not look away- _could not_ look away. She was through hiding and this was but a test of wills.

The man's fist was clenched tightly, chubby knuckles taught, as they flew towards the woman's already marked face. Time seemed to slow as the momentum of the hit came ever closer, but still Lynara held her ground. . .

Then as it was only several short inches from her face the fist _stopped_.

Lynara's eyes grew at the strange halt of her punishment, before her foggy brain was able to put together what had happened. At first it had seemed that the Tavern Master had decided to cease his assault on the maid, but in truth he had been physically deterred. In the small amount of space between Lynara's face and the man's fist, another hand was splayed languidly preventing it from moving any farther. And it was in the second that Lynara noticed the interference, that she felt the strong presence behind her. Turning her head to the side, she gazed over her shoulder and felt her breath draw in her throat.

The Count stood in all his glory, stature tall and commanding, blue eyes blazing with the most potent menace that Lynara had ever seen- his handsome face sculpted into a firm mask. He was standing directly behind the young woman, but had no actual contact with her. But as he held the Tavern Master's hand in his palm and flashed a deadly smile that held no humor- Lynara felt as if he was physically holding her up.

"You would abuse this woman in front of your guests?" Though his cadence was light, the anger behind the words was clear for all in the room to hear, making the Tavern Master gulp.

"My Lord-" the portly man began, but immediately stopped when a cracking sound pervaded the air. For a second it was silent, before the Tavern Master screamed and the Count dropped his hand. With just the grip he had had, Dracula had crushed the barman's hand; breaking it almost instantly. And as the detestable bar owner now sobbed pathetically, the nobleman focused fiery blue eyes on him- ignoring the still customers who had watched the whole scene in disbelief.

"I have spared you for Lynara's sake, seeing as I would hate to upset her further this evening." He said calmly. "But should you ever raise your hand to her again, I _will not_ be so lenient."

The Tavern Master, clutching his broken hand with his other, nodded and slobbered pitifully as he retreated clumsily and then ran into the back room where he could be heard shouting for his wife. And as he did so, Dracula looked down at the barmaid he had just saved. His face still was emotionless, but his blue eyes once more held their usual affectionate glow.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

Lynara nodded once, though it was hard to make the distinction, seeing as her entire body was now a mass of convulsing nerves. "I-I'm fine. Than-Thank you. . ."

The man gave her a small smile, as he offered her his arm. "Come. You must change, little one, before you freeze to death."

Lynara sluggishly placed an accepting hand to his forearm, and began to walk with him back towards the stairs and the upper floor. Though after only three steps, the young woman felt her tired and riddled legs tremble and give out. She would have dropped to the hardwood floor- if the Count's strong arm hadn't wrapped around her middle. He caught her with seemingly relative ease, and gently pulled her back up to stand, leaning against him for support as her legs refused to obey her. Her strength was ebbing away by the second; they both could sense it. And if Lynara hadn't been so lost to her body's denials, she would have been worried by how close she and the Count were. Her chest heaved painfully against his, her wet clad body held protectively around his as he watched her catch her breath.

"It would seem that we are too late to stop you from falling ill," he commented, with an ever so slightly crinkled brow.

Lynara was about to wave him off when he surprised her, by bending down halfway and then placing his free arm under her knees. Then, before the barmaid had time to react, she was being lifted up and carried by the man who had saved her and would most certainly be the source of her undoing.

"C-Count-" she began, her voice raspy as her head swam even more than before. "I m-must speak with y-you . . . something has h-happened. . . You must g-go. . ."

"Hush, little Lynara," he crooned gently, as he walked easily up the flight of stairs and made his way to the Red Chamber where they had spent so much time together. "Save your strength. I fear, that you will need it before the night is through."

And without another word, the man entered the chamber carrying the shuddering woman in steady arms, before he closed the door behind them and Lynara's world went black.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Hello everyone! ^^ I know the cliffhanger for this chapter was very bad, but what happens next is huge and I had to split it into three different parts so I wouldn't die. I'm not the best of writer's and I get impatient when something takes a long time, so I had to change my tactics a bit. ^^;

This chapter had a lot of real emotion for me, and I'm truly glad to post it. It came out better than I had hoped, and hopefully you guys can enjoy it too. Dracula swooping in for the win! *laughs*

As always I would like to thank everyone who has read, faved, watched, or reviewed this story. The attention and respect that this humble fanfiction has been given thus far has completely blown me away. I honestly screech whenever I see someone new has read it. *hands out brownies to everyone* But I must take the time to personally thank those who honored me with their reviews.

Thank you: **DreamBubbles,** the lovely **Guest,** and the lovely **Remember** (I honestly started crying when I read your review, Madame Remember. I have never gotten so much good feedback or compliments on a piece of my work, and it truly was a touching experience to read your insights.)

Thank you all~!

 **Sooooooo**! XD What do you guys think? Any predictions or thoughts on the chapter? Any ideas of what will happen next? *wiggles eyebrows* Was the Dracula fanservice good enough to make you drool? XDDD

Anyway, see you guys next chapter! Hopefully it'll be soon! I seriously never write this fast! This story is ALIVE I tell you!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Dancing into the Night: Part Five**

* * *

Lynara was floating; caught between wakefulness and dreams. Swimming unhappily in an abyss of memory, sight, and sound. She drifted aimlessly for an eternity; tormented as she flew higher and higher still into the barren vast wasteland of her mind. There was no reprieve, no end to the flashes and the pain they brought, and the young woman fought against it warily, desperate to get to safety.

She was so _warm,_ as if her skin was on fire, and was so very, very _lost._

The young maid ran through the living and breathing shadows relentlessly, screaming for help, her sorrowful brown eyes wide with terror and tears. But no one would come. . No one ever came when she needed them. Not when she remained silent about her troubles, and most certainly not when she _wished_ to be saved. No one would come to rescue her. Not now, nor _ever._ So Lynara stopped fighting, and instead began to gradually slip into a permanent slumber. Little by little, she felt herself and everything she was start to disappear. Each memory began to crumble and turn to dust before her very eyes; each laugh or smile or tear forgotten as if they had never happened. But for once the girl didn't despair. . . Why should she fight her end when no one wanted her?

 _But you have never minded being alone before,_ the sensible part of her mind spat indignantly. _Or was it all just lies!_

Lynara shook her head sadly as she watch her childhood flicker through her hooded eyes. She hadn't minded being alone . . . but only because she had never known differently. For years she had stayed in quiet seclusion, holding the world at bay because of the horrible things she had seen and heard.

For a child loneliness had been similar to hell itself, but after years of practice, Lynara had stopped caring one way or the other. . . Until now.

 _But why should I care now,_ she wondered as the shadows began to attach their long, smoky coils to her already fading body. _What is left for me but disappointment and isolation?_

Slowly the darkness sucked the life from her: stealing her essence and with it the will to live. Until it came to the very heart of her. Lynara hovered in silence as she waited to vanish altogether, completely at peace with the verdict that had been passed. . .

. . . But then, just when she was about to be extinguished completely, she _felt_ it. . .

It was small at first, but instantly recognizable. The subtlest of pressures against the graying skin of her left inner palm. It was frigid cold and rather hard in composition, but the woman moved to cling to it fervently, enjoying both the comfort and the balm that the simple touch granted. And it was as she clutched the unseen hand to her breast that the woman remembered it all. _Why_ she had fought for so long and so hard. _Who_ she was and what she wished to become. And most importantly, she remembered the hope that had driven her. True, she hadn't been blessed with extensive family or friends. But the woman had never been devoid of hope or the eagerness for what the morrow would bring. . . Nor had she discarded the too few that had found a place in her heart or soul.

Lynara began to weakly shy away from the coils- as several faces flashed before her dulled eyes, making her cry out in both elation and heartache.

Lexya- red haired and freckled to a fault- the closest thing Lynara had to a sister. She was young but held so much promise; a girl that could be great if she found her wings.

The other barmaid Claudria- auburn haired and a natural beauty. She was crude and well experienced in the ways of men and the world, but was also someone that the dark skinned maid had always considered to be a friend.

Then, the face of a moderately beautiful woman who Lynara had not seen in many years, came to the surface. The young woman cried as she reached out to the one who had died many years ago, longing to see her, to speak with her again . . .

And then the memory changed, making Lynara's heart stutter from its inactivity and once more begin to beat in her chest. It was strangely _this face_ that caused the young woman to suddenly revive against the shadow tendrils. As she beheld this last face, the woman's lost memory began to return to her. And as each thought was slotted to its proper place, the girl's normal complexion and coloring came back. She was fighting once more, and though she felt more pain because of it, she was more than happy to do so.

The young woman smiled as tears rolled down her now healthy brown cheeks, feeling her heart warm at the sight of the now familiar intent blue eyes. The Count's face was still hazy, as Lynara repaired herself, but his smile gave her the bravery she needed.

Where she had earlier been burning and on fire, the young woman now cooled- aching for the moment when she would be chilled by the unseen caress that she still clung to.

Lynara stroked the invisible hand gratefully and cried out in relief when it grew firmer in her own. It seemed that the more essence that re-entered her, the more solid and strong the sightless grip grew, until it was like a true hand and not just a phantom of her fancy. And for the first time since the girl had entered into the darkness, she became truly calmed and complacent.

Though she still floated amidst the never-ending sea of shadow, she wasn't alone. And as she walked through each of her restored memories and was forced to gaze upon each, Lynara knew that the simple touch was enough to see her through. For it held the hope she had lost, and due to that she had been able to find her captured courage long enough to save herself.

So, the young woman gripped the imperceptible hand with all her might, and willingly faced her demons.

* * *

It was sometime later that the images faded into nothingness and all became serene. Though the girl wasn't aware of the actual time of change or how much it truly affected her. It was only when Lynara felt something cold pressing into her side that she was mindful of _anything_.

With a fatigued hand she weakly tried to brush the object away from her body, but found that it was too heavy for her to shift. As this realization entered into her foggy, sleepy conscious the woman moaned and tried to turn over. She was able to do so, but the cold object followed her almost instantly; this time it took refuge slung over her hip and stomach.

For a moment, Lynara fought her heavily eyelids as she forcefully pushed them open through traces of a deep sleep, until finally her chocolate brown orbs groggily gazed upon a well-furnished room. After a couple minutes of blinking, the maid recognized it as the best guest room in the Tavern. Confused, Lynara drowsily looked down at the cold object that had awoken her, and felt her heart skip in her chest.

It was the hand and forearm of a _man_. The appendage was quite pale but looked to be strong; but differing from the status of the limb, the contact left on the maid was gentle, though it held her firmly in place.

Lynara stared at the hand splayed around her middle for several long seconds before she slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder at the man who it belonged to. As the familiar face fell into her vision, the woman's stomach erupted in a volcano of butterflies and her pale face flushed as shock and an unexplained emotion filled her.

The Count lay behind her, his face peaceful, his blue eyes closed to the world as he slept. He had no blankets on him (Lynara was currently under a pile of them) and had shed his shirt and coat, when Lynara assumed he had decided to lay beside her. He had kept his breeches on, but his feet and chest were bare, making the maid's breath catch in her already dry throat. Dracula's strength had always been apparent to her, but now as she beheld the toned muscles of his arms and torso, the woman truly wondered upon it. She had only seen one other man in a state of undress, but he had been wider in the gut and nothing pleasant to witness. Whereas with the Count, Lynara found that she couldn't look away.

"Do you like what you see, little one?"

Lynara visibly jumped as the deep, accented voice filled the silence, and immediately looked up to the man's face. Though he had been asleep mere moments before, he was now watching her with tired but amused eyes, and smiled at her.

Lynara looked at him for a long moment before she felt panic rise in her already heavy chest. Then against her better judgment, the young woman found herself asking him a question.

"We didn't. . . We didn't?"

Dracula lifted an eyebrow, though his eyes told her that he knew exactly what she was trying to ask. "We didn't _what,_ Lynara?"

"I didn't . . . _entertain_ you, did I?"

The man smiled wider at her as he let his free arm slid to prop his head underneath his pillow. "You always entertain me, my dear." At the woman's worried expression, he continued. "Though I did not take pleasure in your womanly virtues, if that is what you were inferring. If I were to make such advances, I would wish for you to be of sound mind. Unwillingly bed partners are so unsatisfying in the scheme of things. Wouldn't you agree?"

Lynara, having no experience with such things (which he was quite aware), found that she had no way to answer his question, and quickly decided to change the subject while her brain was working enough to make the distinction. "W-Where am I? How did I get here?"

Though he was now obviously wake, the Count's hand around her middle didn't stray as he answered the woman's questions patiently in a soft voice.

"We are at your Tavern, my dear. You came to be here in this room after you became very ill. The Master of this fine establishment was _kind enough_ to offer his best quarters for the duration of your recovery."

Lynara felt the confusion show on her face, but felt no shame in it.

"I was sick?"

"You suffered from a violent brain fever," came the solemn reply, and Lynara noticed that the grip around her middle tightened ever so slightly as he continued to say, "It took you three days to finally break through it."

"I've been asleep for three days?" Lynara's eyes grew wide in surprise.

"Four," he corrected. "You broke your fever yesterday evening."

When the young woman was silent for several moments, the nobleman gently asked, "What is the last thing you remember, little Lynara?"

For a time she thought before her expression became anxious. "I recall walking to the Tavern in the rain . . . and the Tavern Master struck me, but you stepped in before he could do any true harm."

"I would say otherwise," Dracula said as he thoughtfully brushed the now fading bruise that she wore openly on her cheek. "But that is correct."

Lynara frowned as her tired brain remembered everything that had happened up to her fever, including the threat she had received, and she instantly began to sit up in the bed. There were things she had to do, and speaking to the Count was the first item on her list. . . But the woman's upward progress was interrupted by the hand around her middle gently kept her in place.

"Where does the lovely lady think she is going at this hour?" Dracula asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm getting up," she stated firmly. "I've been lying down for far too long, and there are things I must attend to."

The man chuckled then, his tone deeper and more hoarse than usual due to him freshly woken up, before he shook his head. Lynara noted absently, that his hair was not held by its usual clasp and now hung freely in long raven tresses about his handsome face and golden pierced ears.

"You have been visited by death himself, my dear. Surely another day's rest won't be too much to ask."

"But the Tavern Master-"

"Is of no concern. He is willingly to let you rest as long as you need."

"I have work-"

"That your fellow maids can take care of until you are fully recovered."

"I cannot lay here," Lynara interjected, but the Count was now pushing her back to the soft sheets and pillows, his smile growing into an actual grin.

"Think of it as a new task at hand, my dear," he laughed as she gazed at him with unreadable brown eyes. "You are expected to keep me company until tomorrow morning, as per usual. It would be a pity to waste our time together by running off to get your hands dirty."

Lynara's brow furrowed in confusion, even as she felt fatigue wriggle in the back of her mind. She was still very tired and weak, but she couldn't give in. . . .

"What time is it?"

The Count's hand gently stroked her stomach as he stared at her, making the young woman's lungs momentarily stop working, before he let his blue eyes close peacefully.

"It is almost midday, my darling. And I must rest."

"But it's so dark. How-"

"I asked that the curtains be drawn when I came to join you," he returned, as his black hair fanned out across his own pillow, contrasting beautifully with his pale complexion. "Sunlight is not something I particularly . . . _enjoy_."

"But I have things I must do," Lynara repeated firmly. "I must speak with you about something important. I meant to tell you when I first returned to the Tavern, but with everything that happened I was distracted. . ."

The Count's eyes slid open once more to regard her, taking in the plains of her dark face affectionately, before he let his hand at her stomach slide down to take ahold of her hand (something that the girl was extremely grateful for). Slowly he brought it up so he could place a kiss to her knuckles, and then hold her hand soothingly in his own. Reminding the woman of the dream she had awoken from not too long ago, which she now assumed to have been caused by the brain fever she had endured.

"I can see you will not be swayed easily," Dracula indulged with a sigh. "So let us make a deal, you and I, my little Lynara."

The young barmaid looked wary at his eagerness. "What bargain do you propose?"

"You go back to sleep until tonight, regaining what little strength you have kept. And when we awake, I shall speak to the Tavern Keeper on your account, and we shall discuss this important matter of yours to your heart's content."

"You are patronizing me, Count." She scowled at him, making him chuckle again.

"Not at all, little one," he said sincerely. "But how else shall I convince you to stay with me, when you are so adamant to return to your chores and drudgery?"

Lynara blushed at the meaning behind his words, though internally wondered why indeed she was rushing back to her work. She never had breaks from her job, nor was it gratifying to her mind or soul. . . In all rights, she should be basking in the beauty of this freedom, but the intimate moment with the Count had flustered her horribly- which the nobleman was well aware of as he watched the woman with carefully focused eyes. And the red-haired woman's threat still lingered in the girl's thoughts making her uneasy as she felt the seconds tick by.

"I need to speak with you now, sir," Lynara said, but the Count placed a single finger to her lips as he hushed her, and pulled the blankets back over her body as a way of finalization.

"There will be time for that later, my dear. For now, _sleep._ You are still unwell and need to let your body heal. You are but a _mortal_ after all."

Lynara wondered upon the strange point he had made, before she looked at him with already droopy brown eyes. "You promise to listen to what I have to say?"

He smiled warmly as he too grew comfortable and took her hand in his again. "You have my word, Lynara. Now be at peace. I shan't leave your side until you have told me these matters that have upset you."

Lynara nodded, even as her tired eyes closed again and she relaxed into the silky feeling of the sheets and comforters that were piled atop her. For some time Dracula watched the woman, making sure she was in fact dormant, before he too once more embraced slumber. And it was like this that Lynara and the Count slept, side by side, their hands intertwined as the day passed them by and the world once more found the loving glow of the moon and stars. And though neither was aware of it, their breathing patterns were exactly the same; though only one heart beat in the room and only one soul was present.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Hey guys! ^^ So here's the second part of the chapter I had to split. lol Third part is going to be the hardest to write because of all it entails and all that will come to light. I honestly don't know how long it will take me to write it, but fingers crossed it's soon.

The beginning of this chapter was truly personal and emotional to write, and I'm truly happy with how it came out on the page. I don't know what you guys think, but for me at least, the feeling was real and based on truth. ^^

I would like to thank those who have read, faved, followed, or reviewed this story thus far. You all have my gratitude and sincere thanks. *hugs*

Thank you: **YourEnchantingDesire, DreamBubbles, Anime Fan001, Chocoholics Unite, Remember** (gahhhh! You leave the longest, most beautiful reviews ever! I've never seen the like!)and the lovely **Guest** who left reviews. Thank you guys for taking the time to do so! It always gives me warm fuzzies and a large creative boost! ;)

So what are everyone's thoughts on the fanservice? *giggles* Did we all enjoy the Vlad eye (mind) candy? I sure did! Hahahaha! Any thoughts on what will happen next or predictions on what is to come? I would love to hear your guy's thoughts.

Love you guys! See you next chapter~!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Dancing into the Night: Part Six**

* * *

It was well past nightfall when Lynara once more opened her eyes to the world and was made aware of her surroundings. Though when she awoke she lay alone, and all traces of the Count had vanished as if they had never been there. For several long minutes, the young woman sat at the edge of the great bed (she had never slept on something as fine the cot and was rather uncomfortable by it) and stared at the floor. Unconsciously Lynara swung her feet back and forth, as she internally cursed for not forcing herself to speak with him when she had had the chance to do so. True, he hadn't been willing to negotiate at the time, but it was a matter of life and death. There could be no excuses, and the results of failure to comply with the red-haired demon's commands would be too horrible to comprehend. Even with her own safety on hold, there were her fellow maids to consider and even the Count himself. Though the nobleman was incredibly strong of both mind and body, Lynara doubted that he would be able to fight against such an alarming woman as the one she had crossed. . . Unless, the woman somehow knew the Count and owed him fealty. . . Then perhaps this was all out of devotion or jealousy towards his person, which would change things considerably.

Lynara sighed forcefully, as she pushed back her short curly hair from her face, and wondered what she had gotten herself into. It had all started with a simple meeting and the want of a story. . . But now it seemed that the tale was to be much, much darker than she had ever dreamed. Perhaps the darkness she had felt while under the influence of her brain fever was some sort of internal warning. . . But if so, then whose hand had held hers so tightly? Who had guided her through so much pain back to the bright rays of life?

 _You know who took your hand,_ her mind chastised. _It's the same one who you have to let go of._

Lynara felt her heart clench painfully as his name trickled through her conscious and muscled between all of her thoughts.

 _. . . Count Vladislaus Dracula . . ._

It seemed an eternity since he had first introduced himself, but she recalled it clear as day.

And now as the young woman stood up and splashed cold water on her face from the wash basin at the dressing table, she felt her resolve click firmly into place. No matter what part the Count had to play in the scheme of things from here on out, she couldn't hold on to it any longer. After everything that had happened, all she had experienced with the man, she found herself melancholy at the thought of him departing from her company. True, she had had reservations the entire time she had known him . . . but she had also come to care for him deeply. The young maid had never felt the likes of this new emotion in her chest, but she found that it made her breathless and heartbroken at the thought of what she would have to do. . . She would tell him to go, and that would be that. She would be strong as she always had been and move on. . . But deep down, Lynara knew that something inside of her had changed, and there was no going back. For better or worse, Dracula had left an impact on her, and she found she couldn't hate him for it.

"Ahh, good. My lovely storyteller is awake."

Lynara's brown eyes that had been otherwise preoccupied, shifted quickly to the doorway of the guest room, and felt her pulse begin to palpitate faster than it had just mere seconds before. For the Count stood at the doorway, once more dressed to the nines in his black coat and trousers, with his hair pulled back into its normal ponytail and his boots shined to an almost iridescent glow in the dim light of the room. He was just entering as the barmaid turned to look at him; he had done so soundlessly other than his greeting. In one hand he carried a tray of sorts, and the other remained bare as he reclosed the door and moved over to place the platter safely on the small bedside table. Lynara watched him silently, fighting to compose herself before she answered him.

"I thought you had left, sir."

The Count lifted an eyebrow as he sat down on the far side of the bed, and regarded her deliberately. "Even after I gave you my word that I would not leave until I had heard your complaints?" Lynara blushed slightly as he pointed this out (a sight that the man was glad to see after seeing her complexion at a sickly pale hue for several days) and he stated plainly, "You are unwilling to submit to me. To place your trust in me."

Lynara was silent for a moment before she looked at him sadly. "Yes . . . I cannot- _will not_. I am sorry if that upsets you."

He waved his hand at her in dismissal, surprising her. "Quite the contrary, my dear. I find it most intriguing that you are so guarded. It shows a depth and insight that most lack in my presence. Most grow at ease around me, after a time. But with you I am still held at a distance. You are not one to give into base desires or fall for the highest bidder of your attentions. For one such as yourself it is an impressive achievement."

Lynara's brow quirked. "Not all barmaids are willing to fall into bed for a pretty penny or a well spun word, Count."

Dracula unhurriedly shook his raven head with an unreadable smile. "Lynara you are the _first_ who has proven that statement to be accurate. I have never met one who has withstood the avid attention of another. And yet you house more passion than most of those who easily give in to such things."

"I take that as a compliment, sir. So I suppose I should thank you for saying so," Lynara said as she once more cupped water into her hands and brought it to her face. The action was both to clean away the last traces of sleep and to clear her head for what she had to do. She didn't wish to push the Count away after everything he had done for her, but she had no more time or options. She had to act now or she would never be able to bring herself to. So she girded herself and thought of ways to explain. Finally after but a moment, the proper way came to her.

"I am glad you stayed to hear me out, Count."

He smiled before gesturing for her to come sit by him on the bed. When she moved to accommodate him, he pointedly looked at the tray that he had brought with him. "I will always listen to you, Lynara. But first, you must eat the meal that was prepared for you. I doubt it will be _appetizing_ once cold."

Lynara wished to ignore the food and quickly speak her mind, but found herself sitting by the man and beginning to dutifully shovel the homemade stew into her mouth instead. She would have time to do this properly, and who was she to deny good food? It had been days since she had knowingly eaten anything, and as she felt the broth touch her tongue the maid realized how hungry she had actually been.

As Lynara ate, Dracula watched her with interest, and that was when the woman realized that he himself had no food.

"You should eat too," she said with a meaningful glance. "I can't be the only one who was hungry."

For a brief moment the Count seemed on the verge of laughing, as if she had said something funny, before he shook his head. "You are very considerate, my dear. But I have already _eaten_."

"When did you have time to," the young woman wondered as she swallowed yet another bite. "You slept all day and it takes time for the Mistress of the Tavern to make the evening meal."

Lynara knew that the stew had just finished cooking, due to the warmth and flavor that was flooding her gums. So she knew that the Count couldn't have had the stew.

"I did not partake of the evening meal provided here," was the simple answer. "I found _sustenance_ elsewhere."

Lynara studied him for a long moment, for she didn't believe him, before he lifted an eyebrow and surprised her once again. Dracula took the spoon from her hand and dipped it back into the steaming bowl. Then as she watched, still in shock from the thievery of her eating utensil, the man put the spoon into his own mouth and swallowed the bite-full of stew. He gazed at her pointedly before repeating the action, and then getting yet another spoonful- which he proffered to her.

"I can feed myself, Count," she said, failing to hide her anxiety. The brown eyed maid had never been one to share things such as food or drink with another, even with Lexya who she loved like a sister. . . So the action was rather unnerving to the girl.

"I am well aware of that fact, my dear," he returned, unwaveringly, as he continued to hold the broth out to her. Finally, when Lynara knew that he wouldn't relinquish the silverware or change his mind, she leaned forward hesitantly and accepted the mouthful. Pleased, Dracula continued to offer her spoonful's of food, and on occasion would take one for himself- though he didn't seem to take any actual enjoyment from the meal. And it was this way that the stew was finished and the two came to sit in silence side by side. It was the nobleman who was the first to break the tranquility.

"So, little Lynara," he said easily as he reclined back on the bed and looked at her curiously. "What was the matter that you wished to discuss with me?"

Lynara continued to sit quietly, before she looked down at her hands that were clasped anxiously in her lap. This was the moment she had dreaded, but now she had no choice but to plow forward and accept what would happen.

"I have many things I wish to say, Count. . . But I fear that I must go about it in a peculiar way."

"You have my attention, my darling. Speak at your leisure; I shall listen without judgement or interruption."

At the familiar term of endearment, Lynara felt even more regret, before she began.

"Count. . . Vladislaus." As she used his name for the first time, the man looked at her with both surprise and ardent rapture, but as promised didn't say a word. "Since we first met, you have asked me for a story almost every night. You showed a desire to hear me . . . and I now find myself wishing to tell you a tale that has never been shared. . . I still do not know the ending, but the beginning is something that I want you to know."

Lynara took a small inhale of air, forcing her mind to be at peace, as she closed her eyes and began to tell him her story.

"You have made comments about my reservations and unwillingness to trust, and I must state that it is my nature. . . You have never given me a reason to doubt you, nor mistrust, unlike so many others. But an openness of heart does not come easy for me. . . I have been in Budapest for a long time, but I was not born here. I came to this city at the age of 13 as a beggar on the streets, until the Tavern Master's Wife found and took pity on me. . . But that isn't important, so I won't linger on it.

"The story in question begins within a small hamlet several hours journey from Bucharest, some 20 years ago. In this town, the church was the greatest treasure to be found, and all of the villagers were avid in their faith. There were other businesses and buildings of beauty and worth, but none could shine a candle on the love for the old church and the beloved teachings held there. It was a pious community- completely reliant on the religious leaders.

"And with such a background one can surely imagine that certain sins would not be looked kindly upon. . . Such as willingly carrying a bastard child when the Holy Brothers had already condemned the pregnancy as an inexcusable transgression."

Unknowingly Lynara's eyes had once more opened, but despite this the girl saw nothing but the tale she wove. For if she had seen the Count's expression, she might have lost her nerve.

"I never knew my mother," the young woman continued softly, her voice calm but also wistful as she started deeper into the story. "But from what little I do know, she was a spirited and willful woman with a fire that was considered unstable by those in the village. She was fair skinned and a subtle beauty; or so I have been led to believe by those few who knew and cared about her. She was my complete opposite physically, meaning my father must have been the one who had the darker skin- though I have never heard a word of who he was or where he was from.

I was told that she loved me and was willing to give all for me . . . despite everything. . ."

Lynara stopped painfully for a moment, her dark brown eyes becoming misty as her past played through her mind. When she didn't continue, Dracula softly prompted her.

"What happened to her?"

Lynara finally looked at him, giving him a sad smile.

"She refused to obey the commands of the church and community and kept her pregnancy . . . she hid away in seclusion until the time she was in need of a midwife, and after she had me and named me, my mother was taken away and stoned in the village square for being a harlot and _free woman_."

Dracula's face remained expressionless in the moment of stillness that passed between them, but as he reached for the woman's hand with his own, it was obvious that he cared. Though he said not a word as the storyteller continued.

"Despite my sinner's beginnings, the monks took me in as one of their orphans (after some debate about sending me back to whence I came), where I was taught the ways of the church that had barred me from ever knowing the one who had first loved me. But I felt no anger towards them, and I do not now. It is in the past and I never knew any different.

"My childhood wasn't a particularly happy one, but it wasn't sad either. There was both good and bad and the fair share of moments that were somewhere in-between. But the Brothers are the ones who gave me my greatest gift."

"It was the monks who taught you the art of words?"

Lynara nodded. "They taught me how to read and write, in hopes that if I took my vows and became a Nun, that I would be able to be useful to my superiors. But I had no wish to be bound to the cloth, and at the age of twelve I was sent from the Abbey where I had grown up, because of my inability to conform. I ended up going to live with my only living relative: my Aunt Renira."

Dracula's black brow lifted in question. "Why did your mother's sister not take you under her wing earlier?"

"She had wanted to, but her husband hadn't allowed it before then. It was only when I truly had nowhere else to go that he conceded," Lynara clarified, and slowly her face changed into one of resentment. "My Aunt had come to visit me many times throughout my younger years at the Abbey, and I had grown to love her dearly. She wasn't overly beautiful, but to me she seemed to glow with her soft voice and motherly affection. When I first came to live in her home I couldn't have been happier. . . But with time, I grew to hate it.

My uncle was angry and a man prone to violence, though he never laid a hand on me. At first I believed it to be luck or divine intervention. . . But it was neither. My Aunt Renira was the one who paid the price for my safety, which she gave silently and without complaint. She never was able to have children of her own, and I now wonder if that wasn't in-part to the unforgivable beatings she endured. It would make sense, seeing as he could never go a day without forcing himself on her." At the intimate subject, the young woman's voice grew hard and bitter, her normally tranquil eyes blazing with an old fury at the memories she was reliving.

"Every day for the year that I lived in their home, he beat and raped her. . .Every day I was forced to hear her cry and see the new marks he'd left on her, unable to do anything but mourn. . . Until one day I returned home from the market to find him towering over my Aunt Renira. To this day, I do not know what she did to make him so angry, but this time he hadn't stopped . . . She was broken and unrecognizable and had stopped breathing when I found them. And in that moment as I looked at the only mother figure I'd ever known, dying on the floor like a dog or some other helpless animal, I snapped. I had never been violent or strong- I had never wished another to come to harm. But I wanted him to endure the same hell he had put her through. I still don't know how I managed to do it. But I had to make sure that he would never hurt anyone else like he'd hurt her. . . I had to stop him before he could do the same to me. So while his back was still turned, looking down at Renira, I picked up the knife that rested on the table next to his dinner and stabbed him . . . and ran away as he fell to lay beside my beautiful Aunt in death."

Lynara's voice had progressively gotten more emotional as she told her horrible story, her eyes sad and regretful as she stared off at the wall and silently cried. From her side, the nobleman watched her intently, his ageless blue eyes seeing her past with her as she shared it with him, his hand still firmly holding hers.

"I killed him and not a day goes by when I don't see his face or feel despair at what I did. . . But I cannot take it back, and I cannot make the past disappear."

"A man such as him deserved no less, Lynara."

"There is no way to rightfully justify his passing," she said as she wiped away her tears with her free hand. "I took a life and I have been damned ever since."

From beside her, Dracula's face transformed into an unreadable mask before he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to the maid's forehead, his nose brushing against her temple as he held her close. "If God would damn one such as you, then he is unworthy of his heavenly throne and those who he calls his children. You have done nothing wrong."

"But who are we to question such things, sir? We cannot. For we don't have the knowledge or foresight. He would not be God if he let the death of one of his children go unnoticed, good or bad; villain or hero," she interjected, as she pulled away from him, though her voice was once more calm. "I am resigned to my past. I did not tell you this to feel justified in my actions, or to gain pity or favor with you."

"Then why _have_ you shared this tale with me, Lynara," he asked curiously.

At his question, Lynara once more focused on his handsome face, her eyes showing more emotion than anyone could have ever hoped to label, as she told him the truth.

"I have told you this so that you understand."

"Understand what, my love?"

Lynara internally cried as he called her love, before she nudged forward, the image of the red-haired woman firmly planted in her mind's eye.

"I can never be responsible for losing a loved one again. It would kill me to have someone else hurt on my account or because of something I did."

"And I would save you from such pain, my dear," the Count vowed, and Lynara nodded to him for she believed him.

"I know you would. . . So I know . . . I know you will respect my wishes of never wanting to see you again."

As Lynara finished saying this, the guest room fell into an uncomfortable silence, and the world seemed to hold its breath as it awaited what would happen next. Finally after sometime, Dracula gazed at the young woman with calculating eyes, though he didn't seem offended by her words . . . Rather that he was _wary_.

"Why would you wish for such a thing, Lynara? Have I unknowingly caused a threat to you or your fellow maids that you so selflessly care for?"

"No."

"Then who has?"

Lynara's brown eyes instantly grew wide at his statement, and easily he caught the change, making his face become stony as understanding clouded his deep blue eyes.

"You have been forced to take action." It wasn't a question. "Who has cornered you, little Lynara, when I myself have been unable to?"

"I can't-"

"You must," he said plainly. "Who has scared my brave, impenetrable little storyteller?"

Lynara didn't wish to tell him, seeing as it would most likely come back to haunt her and make things worse in the end. . . But she found that as he stared at her so unabashedly, that she couldn't help but answer him.

"A woman. I do not know her name."

The Count's eyes flashed unsettlingly before they once more became neutral, and he settled back onto the bed and surprised Lynara by saying, "Describe her to me, so that we may deal with this obstacle."

"There is no ' _we'_ , Count."

"No," he agreed as he once more bid her to tell him about the woman. "But I believe that one day there shall be."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Woah, this chapter royally kicked my fanny! *passes out from exhaustion* Dracula fought me all bloody chapter and it wrote itself and I don't even know if this one is any good. lol I'm sorry guys, hopefully it's alright and the feelings that I mean to relay are there for you to find.

Quick shout out to everyone who has read, faved, watched, or reviewed this story! You are all amazing and I love you!

Thank you: **YourEnchantingDesire, alexc1209** (nice guesses but I doubt there'll be a lemon, cause I don't write them lol), **DreamBubbles** (I'm so happy that you are excited, my dear! I am too!), and the absolutely amazing **Remember** (once again you've blown me away, Madame. I just love you to bits, and your insights are one of the driving forces pushing me to finish this story in a timely manner instead of letting it sit on the shelf. You are so lovely, and I never tire of hearing praise, even if the same words are used. ;) )

I've been crazy busy lately, but I promise that when I have some time I'll answer you all back individually. ^^ Any thoughts for the chapter? For Lynara's past? For what is to come?

Love you all! Thank you for hanging with me!

See you guys next chapter!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Dancing into the Night: Part Seven**

* * *

Lynara took in an anxious breath as her heartbeat thudded painfully in her ears; overwhelming her already taut senses. Against her better judgement the maid had decided to relay her encounter with the red-haired woman to Dracula. She didn't want to, seeing as some of the details were fantastic at best, but after being pestered by the Count relentlessly for the better part of an hour, the girl had finally given in.

Now the barmaid told him all: how she had walked to the Apothecary as it had started to rain, how she had been confronted in the shop by the woman when the Shop Keeper had disappeared to make her poultices, and the threat that said woman had passed. And throughout the retelling of events, the nobleman remained ever attentive and focused. Though he seemed to take a particular interest in the woman's description.

"This woman: she had flame colored locks?"

Lynara nodded the affirmative. "Yes. The brightest and most beautiful head of hair I've ever seen, if the truth was to be told. It's a shame that her demeanor did not match her physical attributes, or she would be the perfect woman."

Dracula's brilliant blue eyes had been studying the maid as she spoke, and as her words came to a halt, his gaze shifted to the window. And in that moment, his orbs flashed in the darkness; momentarily becoming alarming as they shone with barely bridled wrath. And at his side, one of his hands clenched into a fist- which made a drastic, loud cracking sound against the silent atmosphere.

Lynara who was sitting next to the Count, almost immediately shied from both the sound and the fire dancing in his eyes; and unconsciously began to move from him. But before she could get more than an inch away, an amiable hand rested on hers, stopping her. Dracula's touch had no force behind it, only an unspoken request for her to stay . . . and surprisingly Lynara found herself complying with it.

"I apologize, Lynara," he said contritely after another moment. "I didn't mean to frighten you. . . But I do not appreciate the fact that someone would threaten you so _wantonly_."

Lynara was still for a breath before she forced a small smile to rise on her mouth, and hesitantly squeezed his hand, as a reassuring gesture. Though why she found that she wished to cheer the nobleman, was still beyond her comprehension.

"I do not care for it much either. . . But for now at least, her threat was only through words."

The Count nodded his raven head somewhat absently, before his expression and body posture grew tense. Not as one in fear, but one who was preparing to lash out- though his fury didn't seem to be directed towards the barmaid (something for which she was truly grateful.)

"Why did this woman threaten you, little one? Did she state her reasoning?"

Lynara's face unwillingly became a brighter shade of brownish-red as she found herself unable to answer.

"Lynara." The young woman looked at him, and felt her breath catch in her throat at how close he was- how intensely he was looking at her. " _Tell_ _me_."

Lynara bashfully looked away from him before she murmured, "She said that I shouldn't see you anymore. . . Because I cannot have hope of pleasing you. . . Not that such a thing is something I would consider, or have any wishes to enact. . . I have come to assume that she sought me out because she somehow knows you, and for some _misguided_ reason is jealous or worried about where your attention is placed. . . Though I cannot imagine how someone so fair would be troubled by someone like me-"

Lynara ceased speaking when Dracula brought his forefinger to tip her chin up, effectively breaking her concentration and forcing her to once more meet his gaze. "Can't you, my darling? Can you not see why another woman would be wary of your presence?"

Lynara froze, as he softly traced her cheekbones and chin, surprised by the sudden change in his mood. Though it was his question and the challenge he presented with it that made the maid's heart flip.

"No. I am no beauty, Count. I am aware of that, as I always have been. And I am confident that this woman would more than turn your head, and that of any man she encountered. If we were held side by side she would take _all_."

"You sell yourself short, Lynara," he said softly, almost tenderly, making the young woman's stomach clench almost painfully, against her best wishes to remain unaffected. "This woman holds nothing to the mystery you present. And where her physical attributes might meet more men's standards of beauty, she could not hope to match you in gifts of intellect or the heart."

"You give me far too much credit, sir. . . And who knows: you might not say such things if you knew her." Lynara was fairly certain, but the Count shook his head, making his black hair bounce ever so slightly in its golden clasp.

It was then that it clicked for the girl and her brown eyes grew wide.

"Y-You _know_ her? . . . Don't you?"

"Yes," the man replied. "I have known her for a _lifetime_."

At this confirmation, the young woman pushed away from the man and stood from the bed where she had been sitting. Lynara began to pace as she fought to wrap her mind around all that this would and _could_ mean. She had already imagined that the Count _might_ know of the red-haired nightmare, but for him to so easily recognize her made absolutely no sense.

 _If he knows her then it is unlikely he will believe me . . ._

"What is it I wouldn't believe?"

Lynara cringed at the curious question. She hadn't realized she had spoken aloud, but apparently she had . . .

"You will not believe _me_. . . I doubt anyone else would in your shoes."

Dracula looked almost amused as he watched the woman pace in front of him, the earlier wrath he had experienced having melted away completely. Though the man was undoubtedly steadfast, his emotions and reactions were also very apt to change.

"Why don't you test the boundaries of my imagination before you start making generalizations, my dear?" He taunted her easily, his smile growing into a large grin as she turned to look at him warily. "Tell me what you yourself cannot accept; _do_ _not_ limit your perceptions. For how can I take action against this woman, if you do not reveal all she has done to you _?"_

"All she did was threaten me, sir."

"Then why does your heart waver at the mere thought of her, Lynara?"

The young woman shut her eyes tight as she finally stopped walking around the room; her hands clenched into fists at her side. What she had seen . . . what she had felt at the Apothecary was real. . . . and oh so blood chilling.

"She wasn't human," Lynara whispered, more to herself then the man listening to her, as she remembered the woman's eyes glowing red and the feeling of dread that had accompanied the action. "Her eyes, her beauty, her voice . . . it was all broken. She wasn't human. . . She wasn't _whole. . ._ She was- _"_

" _Hollow_." Lynara opened her eyes to regard the Count as he substituted the word, his voice knowing as he wordlessly reached out to her with his understanding.

" . . . Yes. . . I believe that she was . . . _Nosferatu_ . . ." As the old name for _vampire_ slipped into the otherwise still room, Lynara felt a strange shiver run across the bared skin of her arms and neck. . . Having lived in Budapest (so close to Romania) for so long, she had heard tell of the nightmares creatures that prowled on humans and killed them for sport. But it wasn't until the maid had seen the woman's otherworldly nature that she truly believed the tales to be plausible.

For a long moment the man and the brown maid were still before the former spoke.

"You needn't worry, little one. I know that what you tell me is the truth."

Lynara's gaze snapped to him. "How can you possibly know such a thing?"

"Because I was aware of her inhuman nature long before you were threatened," he said simply, before he rose up from the bed as well. They stood several good feet away from each other, and yet the Count's height still visibly towered over the young woman's.

"Then you understand the need for us to part company . . . _permanently_." The last word hurt Lynara as it floated past her tongue, but she knew that there was no helping it now. The Count would leave her tonight and never come back, and she would find ways to heal. It was what she had to do and there was nothing for it.

"It would seem my lovely storyteller is eager to be rid of me," he chuckled. "It is truly a wonder that Aleera's vile manner held any sway with you."

 _Aleera_ , Lynara thought anxiously. _So_ _ **that**_ _is the woman's name._

"What are you talking about, Count?"

"Merely that there is no need for us to sever our ties," he said, as he moved closer towards her. "Now that I am aware of what has occurred, I shall be more than able to deal with this _little problem."_

"Little problem? She isn't human!" Lynara shook her head in disbelief. "How can you possibly mend this?"

The Count's expression once more grew amused before he pulled the very off-balanced maid into an impulsive embrace. At first the contact made the girl stiffen, but when he showed no signs of rushing or doing more, the dark skinned maid couldn't help but relax into the moment. His hands were so considerate and gentle as they held onto her, clasping behind her head and mid back . . . and though the touch was intimate Lynara found herself unwilling to pull away.

"Do you trust me, beautiful Lynara?"

The female's whole body shuddered as he whispered the words directly in her ear, and her form melded completely into his for a brief moment, before she forced herself to pull back and look up at him. For a time, brown eyes searched ocean blue, seeking for answers and secrets, before the woman gave a reply to his question. Surprising herself with what came from the deepest recesses of her conscious.

"I . . . I think . . . . _Yes_. . . I believe I do."

At her sincere and somewhat bumbling admittance, Dracula's expression became warm- transforming his handsome face completely. Lynara had seen him pleased before . . . but this was different. . . From the light glimmering in his eyes it all seemed as if a large weight had been lifted from him, but what that weight consisted of she was unsure. But before the young maid could consider it further, the man brought her out of her revelry.

"Then heed me," he said in regards to her acknowledgment of confidence. "This woman who dared to approach you, shall never do so again. After I leave you, I will go find her with haste. This problem shall be resolved before tomorrow evening- but until then you must be careful. Stay inside the Tavern, keep a wooden stake at hand in the folds of your dress, and if you have a cross- wear it. She is as you suggested a _Nosferatu,_ so I would ask you to be cautious, little one."

"But what will you do?" Lynara wanted to know, shocked by the precautions that the Count was giving her.

"I will tell her to leave you in peace." He clarified with a small half smile. "Though she _is not_ a mortal woman, she can still be reasoned with. Especially when it is _I_ who offer the command."

Lynara's brow furrowed; the space between her eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. "But how can you have such sway with a creature like her? How do you know this woman? What connection do you share with her?"

The Count stared at the barmaid for a long minute before shaking his head. "Always so curious, even when most humans would rather be ignorant to the horrors around them. . . I am afraid I cannot answer your inquiries, my dear. It is neither the time nor place for that particular conversation."

Lynara frowned and quickly interjected, "It _is_ the perfect time, Count. You have pushed me for information this evening, now it is your turn. _Tell me._ "

"Lynara-"

"No," she said firmly, her hands beginning to shake as all the events of that day began to catch up with her. From her fears of the present to her shame and despair of the past. "I need to know. I cannot remain oblivious to this. You asked me if I trusted you, and I told you I did. . . Now I must ask. . . Do you not trust me?"

The nobleman nodded to her once, before he let his prominent hand come up to cup her cheek. His flesh was cold against hers, but Lynara didn't shy from it, or seem to notice it. Instead she unconsciously seemed to lean _into_ it. Making Dracula sigh in contentment, as he brushed her cheekbone with his thumb- something that was foreign yet strangely thrilling to the young woman.

"I do, little one. And I shall tell you everything you wish to know," he breathed. ". . . In good time."

"I should know _now_. For both our sakes." Though Lynara's words were aimed towards the current predicament, something deep inside her screamed that there was something else. Something she was _missing_ ; just beyond her foresight that would be the end of her.

Dracula watched the dread and unknowing instinct flow across the maid's face, and if he had had a heart it might have given in to her. . .

"Two nights hence is the glorious All Hallows Eve," he finally said, his voice more husky than usual as his thick accent rolled over the words he chose with such care. "And as always, I shall be hosting a Masque Ball at my Summer Palace in honor of the darkness that autumn brings. . . On that spectacular night, I shall reveal all to you, Lynara . . . And you shall be able to decide what it is you wish to act upon."

Uneasy butterflies rose in Lynara's stomach as she listened to his proposition, but knew that she would be unable to resist him. . . He had now promised to give her the greatest gift: knowledge. And she would hold him to it. . . In two days she would have her answers, and would no longer be in the dark.

"Will you wait for me, beautiful Lynara?" The young woman lifted her brown eyes to regard the handsome nobleman, her heart on her sleeve for a brief moment despite her trouble with trusting.

"I can wait, sir," she vowed as the Count looked down at her with a solemn expression.

"I can see your unease due to my secrecy. . . And I would tell you to have faith in me, but I suppose it would be considered hypocrisy on my part."

This was a strange thing for him to say, Lynara thought, but then before she could question him about it, the man surprised her for the umpteenth time that evening. Before she could react or even think about pulling away, Dracula dipped down and captured her lips with his own.

Lynara's eyes went wide as her mind screamed at her to yank away, but she found that she could not move. Her limbs seemed too heavy to consider such a pursuit, and her hands seemed to have a mind of their own. They randomly moved in the air around the nobleman, neither touching him nor avoiding him, as the young woman floundered helplessly. Never before had Lynara been kissed- and for so long she had thought she would never want to be. . . But now as Dracula's lips gently held her own, she melted into the contact.

It was so . . . _tender_ , as if he was afraid that if he held her too hard she would break, and yet he held passion as well . . . It was like nothing Lynara had ever thought possible. And when the Count pulled away a moment later and placed his chilled forehead against her own, the young woman's heart flipped deliberately in her chest.

Then after several minutes had ticked by, Dracula nuzzled her with the tip of his nose against hers, making the girl draw in a shaky breath.

"I must leave you now, my dear Lynara. But I shall return tomorrow evening to make sure you are contented. But until I return: stay indoors, keep to the sunlit corners, and don't venture out alone. Aleera would relish the thought of catching you without me there to protect you."

"A-Alright, Count."

He gave her an affectionate smile. "Vladislaus," he corrected.

Lynara was still for a moment, before she hesitantly reached up to wrap her arms around him in another hug. "Until tomorrow . . . _Vladislaus_."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Wow! Another chapter that nearly killed me! O_O Gosh! This one fought me tooth and claw. But after about five times rewriting from scratch I had to let it rest. Hahahaha! There are some rough spots, but hopefully it doesn't bother you guys too much. ^^;

Soooooo! Le Smoochies happened! What did you guys think? And what is the verdict about Dracula's promise to tell Lynara the truth on All Hallows Eve? Any thoughts, impressions, predictions for what's coming or what has happened? I'm seriously enjoying writing foreshadowing moments. Since chapter one I've had the main plot twist planned and I've been laying the way for it with each chapter. I am really excited to get to that point, so hopefully the next chapter or two will go smoothly. Fingers crossed! ^^

Quick shout out to everyone who has read, faved, watched, or reviewed this story! I'm so grateful for each and everyone of you! *hugs you*

Thank you:

 **YourEnchantingDesire** (I'm glad you are still enjoying it dearie! ^^ )

 **Aintaru** **(** Thank you so much twinny! You spoil me rotten with beautiful comments and support!)

 **bloodyrose2014** **(** thanks for reading, my dear. I hope you continue to enjoy it! _ **)**_

 **Remember (** Madame Remember what can I say to you? Honestly, words don't describe how much I love your critque/comments. Your in-depth insights make all the struggle worth it. And your analyis of how Dracula views Lynara as both a child and something more was dead on. I'm so glad that you could see that! **)**

 **DreamBubbles (** Thank you so much for leaving me such a lovely comment. I'm so glad that you are enjoying the story dear! **)**

See you guys next chapter~!

 _ **~ Lyn**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Dancing into the Night: Part Eight**

* * *

It had been a rather warm day, despite it being mid-autumn and having rained for weeks and weeks on end. But now once again the day was dying and giving way to the nightly song. And as the last rays of sunlight fled from the earth, two nightmares creatures awoke to greet the pearly glow of the moon and her lustrous entourage of stars. Though this was the only pleasant greeting to be given between the two, seeing as one had inflicted the attentions of a terrible wrath upon the other. Now as the initial tirade calmed to silent fury rather than spoken rebuttals, the one who had suffered the berating and punishment looked up at the other with tearful green eyes.

These emerald orbs held a hundred years of experience behind them, but still lacked true understanding. They held beauty and consternation for all those they deemed _lesser_ or _unworthy,_ and due to this the woman who was the owner of these eyes had never been close to anyone . . . No one besides the one who now looked upon her with distain. The only one she cared for besides herself was the impressive vampire male that currently took her chin in hand and stared at her directly; after having pressed a piece of silver to her bared flesh, making her gasp in agony as it viciously burned her.

"M-Master," the female cried pitifully, her voice growing higher than usual due to the horrific pain on her forehead where he pressed the coin with his gloved fingers. "P-Please cease this torment!"

"Why should I, Aleera, when you see fit to disobey me?" Dracula responded, his voice deep and accented with both his native tongue and his cold indifference.

"I-I am _sorry_ , Master," she hissed as he slid the silver circle down the line of her cheek and jaw- melting her skin with just the simple touch. "I d-didn't mean to go against your wishes-"

He laughed here, a sound that was devoid of emotion and that would have made any human go completely white with fear. "You had every intention to defy me, my bride. And I know you would not be sorry for your actions if you were not forced to pay the price."

"P-Please, my lord! _PLEASE DO NOT_!" she screamed, struggling as he now pressed the item to her breast just above where her dead heart rested.

Though she was for the most part immortal, the vampiress would most certainly die if the silver was able to touch her heart. And from the way that her skin was already burning away to reveal her blackened tissue and veins- if her Master didn't pull the silver away in just another moment her undead life would come to an end.

"You are not to go near the human girl again," Dracula stated coldly, his blue eyes burning with his vampiric authority in the pitch black room where they resided. "Nor are you to threaten her or anyone else near that particular Tavern."

"YES, MASTER!" Aleera screeched, as her dead heart finally came into view. "I WILL NOT TOUCH YOUR HUMAN!"

For a brief second it seemed that the female's promise meant nothing to him. But then Dracula sighed and pulled his hand away- with just enough time before the last of the tissue protecting her from death shriveled into nothing. For a minute Aleera's chest wound gaped open, showing off her completely black and stilled heart, before slowly her body began to heal itself, reforming with shocking perfection. Then after but another moment the female vampire was whole again. One would never had known that she had been burned to the threshold of death, nor that her face had been momentarily scarred. Once more she was unblemished and beautiful, and her immortal life had been spared.

Dracula watched her skin reconnect with disinterest before he moved away from her to the window of the room where they had slept through the day. With eternal blue eyes he gazed out on the foggy night; taking in the familiarity of Budapest with a resigned ease. Though despite his patience and inner resolve, the vampire found his senses turning past the Adriatic Sea and great cliffs towards the Carpathians. His thoughts returning to Romania and his home of ice and stone. It had been nearly two months since he had been there, and despite his hatred of the prison he had once had to endure there, he found himself missing it. He had come to Budapest to spend time in his Summer Palace, more out of habit than want, taking only Aleera with him for the journey. His steadfast Verona and playful Marishka had stayed behind. Dracula had originally thought to take Verona with him and leave Aleera behind, but with the Valerious line so close to being extinguished, the Count had decided against it. Aleera, though very capable of the cruelty he would have wished for the two siblings, was thoroughly impatient and would have made mistakes they couldn't afford. So she had joined him on his travels. . . Though now, the ancient vampire was inclined to the frame of mind that his red-haired bride would have been less trouble in Romania.

"Master."

Dracula turned his head slightly, looking at Aleera with his peripheral vision. The woman stood several feet from him, seemingly scared to come closer, as tears streamed down her doll-like face. From the glint in her green eyes and the drawn line of her brow, the Count could see that she was confused and distressed but he offered no comfort.

"Aleera," he returned, giving her permission to speak with just the sound of her name.

"You would have. . . This. . . This human whore-" at the demeaning title the Count snarled lowly, the sound of a great wolf or some other predator, making her cringe away from him.

"I suggest you use another phrase, Aleera." As he said this, he pointedly held up the silver piece for her inspection before pocketing it once more.

More tears fell down the vampiress' face as she began again. "Master . . . You would kill me for this mortal girl's sake? . . . You would choose this human over _me_?"

Aleera anxiously waited for him to answer, though she could already sense what he would say. He had nearly killed her just moments ago, and had showed no mercy or repentance as he did so . . .

Dracula had never been afraid to discipline his brides when they crossed a line, but never before had he threatened one of them with the eternal sleep. . . Never before had he taken silver or holy items to one of his own kind . . .

For a long moment, Dracula didn't speak, but merely continued to regard the dimly lit port city. But when he did answer her, his tone was calmed and held no venom in it.

"I would," he said. "If I had to make a definite decision, she would come first."

Green eyes burned with hell's fire, as more tears fell from the unearthly orbs. But despite her anger the bride only reacted with despair.

"Do I mean so little to you?" She cried, glaring at him with dismay.

Dracula was silent for a breath before he shook his raven head in the negative. "No, Aleera. But this mortal offers me something my brides cannot."

Aleera's anger turned to uncertainty in the batting of a lash at his strange admittance, before she looked at him curiously. To her knowledge, her Master had never had an affinity to humans . . . Never seen them as anything but a source of nourishment or the odd bout of amusement . . . So what could possibly be so special about this one? She was not beautiful, nor did she stand out from the rest. Her blood smelled like any other Tavern wenches, and the vampiress was sure that it would taste natural and bland if consumed. The chances of her having pure blood were slim, seeing as most of the common folk were inbreeded pigs. Or so Aleera had come to believe. But such thoughts were now trivial as she spoke her puzzlement aloud.

"What does she have, Master? What quality does this human possess that we your Brides do not?"

At the question, Dracula's blue eyes shone in the dark making the female gasp. In the hundred years that Aleera had been with her Master, she had never seen him look as he did now . . . It was almost as if he was . . . _alive_. Not in the sense of excitement for what was to come, but rather that he was once more _human._ Though his heart remained silent in his chest and his lungs no longer took in meaningful inhales of air, he _lived._ And his vampire bride had never seen anything so beautiful or disconcerting.

"She offers me a _heart_ , my darling," he purred deeply, bringing her back to the present. "And that is more than you have ever deemed appropriate to grant me."

"It was _you_ who made me heartless!" Aleera spat at the unfair sentiment, her tears falling from her chin to the polished stone floor. "I have always given you _all_!"

"You have never been able to entrust all of yourself, Aleera." He interjected firmly, without looking at her. "You were mortally born of stone. When I found you- you felt no love, nor fear, nor joy, nor sorrow. You were made to be damned . . . You were destined to be one of my sire-lings . . . one of my hell-bound brides."

"And what of your precious human," Aleera questioned emotionally, his words hurting her despite her selfish nature. "I have never smelled her scent on you, so I know you have not bedded her. . . And she was still human last I saw, so I know you have not claimed her as my new sister."

"What I do with her is no concern of yours," he answered sternly, an unspoken threat passing between them without hindrance.

And it was in that moment that the female finally understood. Her green eyes going wide as her mouth twisted with fury.

"You will not turn her. . . You cannot."

He didn't reply, but his lack of denial was answer enough.

"Why do you protect her, Master? Why do you refuse to claim her when you want her so badly?"

Dracula was silent before he finally turned away from the window and looked at his bride. Though he cared for her, there was no affection to his expression as he slowly moved to walk past her.

"Come, Aleera- we have an engagement to attend to."

" . . . What engagement, Master," she inquired with resignation after some hesitation, knowing now that he would not answer her question, and that the matter of his human obsession was closed.

"You must apologize to Lynara and put your petty jealousy aside."

"I owe her nothing," Aleera spat, disgusted by the thought of groveling to a pathetic barmaid. But her Master's deadly gaze stopped her disagreement cold on her full lips.

"You owe her _all_ ," he said cryptically, before adding, "And you will do as I have commanded, or your eternity ends tonight."

And without another word, Dracula exited the chamber, leaving his bride alone to get ready.

* * *

It was almost 10 o'clock, and the Tavern was vibrant and pulsated with energetic and lively chatter. Upon entering the door one was greeted with the smell of warmed ale and the sweat of countless men who sat and slumped against the many tables and chairs located around the expanse. All the while, four women ran from table to table with pitchers of mead and the occasional bowl of the Tavern's nightly stew in hand. While the men made messes and flirted in intoxicated abandon and took for granted the service they paid so little to receive.

Aleera, upon crossing the threshold with her mate, took it all in with contempt and a scowl. In another life she had been the same as these female tavern wretches; running and working for nothing with clumsy men's hands grasping at her dress. She had been blessed with beauty, and with that particular gift had come the payment of many for the opportunity of sated pleasures.

Now, as the ancient woman looked upon the scene with her transformed eyes, she felt her anger build in her chest. How she hated these people; this and every other place like it. Though she knew no one by deed or name, she wished them all dead. For deep down they reminded her of her helplessness. Her past and all she had run from . . . run to the arms of the handsome stranger in black, who now stood beside her, leading her through the throngs of raucous men to the bar. It was his steady hand alone that made Aleera bridle her insanity and follow his steps silently. His powerful grip that forced her to let these mortal pigs continue to live their pointless lives, instead of gurgle and spew fountains of blood. And though she wished for her way, the woman was actually somewhat grateful for his interference. . . When Vlad was away from her sight, the bloodlust and madness was almost impossible to control. But with him there, Aleera was kept in check . . .

"Good evening, my lady Lynara."

As Dracula's voice invaded Aleera's hearing, she looked up to gaze behind the counter, meeting a pair of startled dark brown eyes. The accursed human girl that the vampiress had come to loath stood before them, pouring drinks behind the bar in the obvious absence of the Tavern Master. She was slightly flushed from the heat of the room, and Aleera noted the upbeat pace of the girl's heart as it hummed busily in her chest. She wore a simple gray Tavern maid's dress, though the red-haired woman noted that the child had made simple alterations to the chest line of the garment. She bared no cleavage or other womanly virtues- and her dark curly hair was in a wavy tangle of disarray. The young woman had seemed comfortable and perfectly at ease before the Count had addressed her, but now Aleera saw the fear rise in her chocolate eyes as they met her own green ones.

Good. She had every reason to be frightened.

"Count," she greeted quietly after regaining her composure, though her eyes turned to him questioningly before returning to the she-demon that had threatened her.

"My dear Lynara, I have someone here who wishes to speak with you, if you will hear her out."

The dark skinned maid looked surprised before she stuttered out, "I-I suppose. . . W-What is it you wish to say?"

Aleera stared at Lynara, and would have continued to do so if her Master hadn't prompted her with his piercing eyes and firm grip on her waist squeezing her painfully into action. With a demure dip of her red head, the bride donned a contrite mask that was nothing more than a façade, before she recited what she knew she must.

"I must apologize to you, Mistress Lynara. I threatened you, wished you harm . . . and I would make amends."

From the crinkle in her brow, it was obvious that the barmaid hadn't expected such a thing from her, and Aleera internally seethed. If her mate hadn't been standing right there, she would have had no issue with ripping the girl's throat out and playing with her vocal chords.

"T-There was no harm done," came the mortal's wary reply.

Aleera felt Dracula's hand at her waist tighten once more and addressed her again. "All the same, I must ask you to forgive me, Mistress. I see now that my Master is well taken care of in your company, and wish for us to part in peace."

"You serve the Count?"

The question took Aleera by surprise, though she answered without hesitation. "Yes."

At this the young woman's brown eyes became softer than before. Though they were not warm or even friendly, they no longer held fear or judgment.

"I must apologize to you as well," Lynara said solemnly. "I can see that you care for your Master greatly, and I never meant to steal him from you, nor make you worry."

Now it was Aleera's turn to be surprised, her green eyes showing her shock as she looked upon the girl that had unknowingly changed everything.

"If I am to forgive you, I would ask that you return the favor, Miss," Lynara continued. "For there was blame to share between us."

The vampire was silent for a long moment, the dulled thrum of the humans around them fading into nothing as she fought to make sense of it all. Before she once more tipped her flame colored head.

"As you wish, human."

Though the words were positive in meaning, the feeling behind them was dark, and Aleera sensed the fear that the barmaid pushed down due to it. But other than that, Lynara showed no sign of intimidation at the subtle hint of danger.

For a brief period of time all was stilled, before the Count's grip on Aleera's waist slipped and his lips turned into a small smile.

"Good," he said. "Now we can all be friends once more."

This statement was somewhat preposterous, seeing as the two women hadn't been friends or even acquaintances to begin with. But no one challenged it.

"Little Lynara," he then asked, "Do you have a story for me?"

The maid couldn't help the smile that rose to her lips, and it made Aleera internally burn. "Only if you wish to hear one, sir."

At this affirmation, Dracula waved a hand to Aleera, though his gaze never left Lynara. "You may go, Aleera."

At the command, Aleera bowed her head and immediately turned on her heel. Though she wished nothing more than to stay and make the mortal uncomfortable, it seemed that her Master had other plans. As the female vampire hurriedly left the Tavern, entering out into the chilled and foggy night she turned a red gaze back to the establishment with an unspoken vow building in her dead and blackened heart. She would have her revenge on the barmaid that had shamed her. She would have to wait, of course. But with time she would have retribution for the pain and feelings of abandonment she now suffered. This Lynara had taken Vlad from her, and now she would take the girl's life as recompense.

With a newly formed smile the vampiress briskly walked back to the Summer Palace with a new hope for the future.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Hey guys! ^^ I've been really excited about this chapter because of how different it is! Not only is Lynara not really in it, but it's mainly from Aleera's point of view! I honestly don't think that our red-haired bride is completely bad, but I do think that she has a sadistic streak and some madness that is rampant in her system though. XD

So how yall like the chapter? Any predictions, thoughts, impressions? I would love to hear from you guys! :D

As always I would like to thank everyone who has read, faved, watched, or reviewed this story. This fanfic has hit very close home to me and I'm thrilled that other people are able to enjoy it too.

Thank you:

 **AnimeFan001:** Hope you like the new chapter~!

 **DreamBubbles:** Your insights are very intuned to the plot and I am truly thankful for it. Thank you so much for always leaving such sweet and thoughtful comments!

 **bloodyrose2014:** I'm glad you enjoyed the kiss! ;)

 **DarkTendncies:** I'm so glad that you were able to get sucked into the story so easily! Welcome to the madness, I hope you enjoy your stay!

 **Layla Azeen:** Your appreciate is happily and most thankfully noted. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

 **12345678910:** Thank you for reading and reviewing, my dear!

 **Remember:** My dear Madame Remember, as always you have left me speechless. I fear I never know what to say to you as way of thanks for gratitude. You see so much, sometimes more than what I consciously intended, and it honors me that you can find so many beautiful and meaningful things in my work. Your comments always brighten my day and make me want to write faster. XD And considering that your own stories and work is so incredible, it makes me even more astounded by the attention. Thank you always, dear Madame. *hugs*

See you guys next chapter!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Dancing into the Night: Part Nine**

* * *

It was a surprisingly sunny day, though still cold due to the time of year. But it was bright and full of unexpected promise to all those who were able to witness it. Countless clouds dotted the pale blue sky making the sun dance gaily between them; peeking out to tease the populace below from time to time with bursts of heat. All in all it was a gorgeous October day, but it was mostly lost on Lynara as she placed a tankard down before one of her customers. As the man grunted his thanks, the barmaid nodded to him before she returned back to the counter where several more mugs awaited her. With calloused hands she picked up three of the large cups and began to walk towards the two tables housed with men awaiting their ale. The young woman was sure in her steps and her hands were assured as they placed two of the tankards down and then moved to the next table with the last mug. But as she set it down before the man sitting there, her mind was a thousand miles away. . . .

"It's good to see ya, Lynnie."

The dark maid's brown eyes quickly lifted to regard the one who had addressed her by name, and realized it was the man she was currently serving. At a closer glance, she recognized him to be one of the regulars: Petrego. He was a burly bearded man that naturally looked intimidating, though when you got to know him there was no one who cared as much for his friends and family. He was older with gray hairs invading his lighter brown, showing his maturity and a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Lynara couldn't help but smile at Petrego as she placed a hand to his shoulder in welcome. Though the maid mostly kept her blinders on when working, the man was her favorite customer and had been a good tipper and friend for all the years she had been at the Tavern.

"Likewise, Petrego. Why haven't you come in more often? I feel like I haven't seen you in an age."

"I _have_ come in," he laughed good-naturedly. "But you haven't been here to greet me. Shame that. I've missed your smile lass, and no one ever gets my order quite as well as you do."

Lynara's brow lifted before she looked at him apologetically, which he accepted with an eased expression of his own.

"I'm sorry, Petrego . . . Things have been somewhat strange of late. . . I haven't been working the floor and bar at night, like usual."

The man's face grew more solemn. "Is it due to that nobleman I've been hearing so much about?"

"Yes."

"Well, I heard what he did for you the other evenin' while I was away, and I'm grateful to him. I'm not one for _pretty rich boys_ , but he can't be so bad if he'd help my girl out. That bastard of a Tavern Master shouldn't have struck you, no matter what he thought you might have done wrong."

Lynara leaned over and gave the burly man a hug. Though he sometimes came off as flirty, the girl had always thought of him as a wayward uncle or father figure and he had long since accepted the title. And after all the strange happenings that had occurred in his absence, the maid was truly happy to see him.

"I'm a lucky lass," Lynara said finally as she pulled away from him. "I've got two knights in shining armor to protect me."

Petrego chortled at that, before he pulled out the seat next to him, gesturing for her to sit for a moment. "It would seem so, Lynnie. But don't you go telling people as much. That soft business wouldn't do well for my reputation, if ya know what I mean."

Lynara laughed too, and accepted the seat after a quick glance back to the bar to see that Lexya was now manning it. It had been too long since she'd had a normal conversation, and despite her usually antisocial mindset, she strangely found herself craving it. For a moment, she would indulge in this casual chat and not feel guilty or out of place. She deserved that much.

"I promise not to tell if you keep my weakness a secret." She joked.

He quirked a bushy brow. "And what weakness is this now?"

"That I _need_ a knight in shining armor in the first place."

"Ahhh . . . Aye, I can keep that under my hat."

Lynara gave him a grateful nod, though her brown eyes were full of humor as she thanked him. Then for a second the two were quiet as Petrego took a long pull from his tankard and Lynara relaxed against the back of her chair. After another swig, the giant of a man turned kind eyes to the girl and broke the silence with a question.

"So, what's eating ya, Lynnie?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You've got a new darkness to your eyes," he replied. "Either you didn't sleep well, or something's pressin' heavy on that mind of yours."

Lynara was quiet for a breath before she leaned her head on her arms, and looked up at him. "I always have dark eyes, Petrego."

"Not like this," he confirmed, taking another thoughtful drink. "You've got dark circles and a haunted look: almost like my nag when she hears thunder rollin' in."

"I've never been compared to a man's horse before," Lynara mused with a shake of her head, before she sobered. "And both of your guesses are correct: I didn't sleep well and I've a lot on my mind."

"Why is that lass?"

"Many reasons."

"Such as," he prompted. It seemed that the gruff man wasn't going to be brushed off so easily. So Lynara decided to answer him in kind.

"The nobleman that you've heard about . . . well I've started to . . . to. . ."

"Have some feelings for him?" The burly man supplied helpfully, to which the girl blushed slightly.

"I pray I'm not that obvious, Petrego."

"Nah," he assured with a wink before lifting his drink to his mustached lips once more. "I just know you better than most, Lynnie . . . So why is this a problem? From what the lads around here say, you've spent all of your evenings in his company and he seems to return the attraction you feel- from all accounts."

"That's just it. . . I don't know what the problem is." Lynara raised a hand to her temple and sighed before looking off at the far wall. "He's handsome, kind, and seems to genuinely care for my wellbeing. . ."

"But?"

"But, something isn't right. Every time I'm with him I get this feeling deep within myself, almost like a warning. . . He isn't all that he seems to be and my heart if full of unrest."

Petrego was still for a long moment, thinking hard on what the girl had said before he gave his piece. "Though being this gent's lady seems like a nice bit of luck, I'd listen to your gut, Lynara. If you have a bad feeling about him, in any way, you should tuck your tail and run."

"But isn't running what cowards do?" She asked, but the man was already shaking his head.

"Sometimes it's the bravest of souls who run, girl. It's not smart to face something that you know you can't beat. Staying for something like that's just being a stubborn idjit."

" . . . I wish running from this were so simple, Petrego," she answered before shaking her head. "But I promised to listen to him, to stay instead of run. . . Because he has vowed to tell me everything about himself tonight . . . On All Hallows Eve. . . He's leaving the choice up to me."

"You'll not be alone with him, I hope."

"No . . . We'll be at a ball surrounded by people."

"Good," the man said. "It's unwise to let him corner ya, Lynnie. Even if he's been a gentleman thus far, who knows how long that'll last. . . Most men are animals when it comes to a beautiful woman."

"I am well aware of that," Lynara stated. "Though how I would seem beautiful in his eyes is still a mystery to me. Especially when Claudria was working the same night I was . . ."

"Claudria is a busting, beautiful gal," the man agreed before adding, "But perhaps this noble has better eyesight than you've given him credit for."

"What do you mean?"

"That perhaps he's looking for someone who makes his heart swell _instead_ of his britches."

Lynara blushed madly at the vulgar comparison, making Petrego laugh, before she shook her head. ". . . He gave me money last night when he came to visit. . . He said I was to go buy the prettiest dress and wear it. . . He talked to the Tavern Master on my behalf: I have all of this evening to myself to get ready and to attend the Masque."

"He gave you money to buy something nice and you haven't slept with him, Lynnie?" At her scowl, he shook his head. "He likes you, lass. If nothing else tells you as much, look to that."

"But am I just that to him," Lynara wondered. "A _challenge_ . . . a woman that he is trying to buy since he could not have her when he originally wanted her?"

"It's possible, but not very likely." When she looked at him curiously he continued, "Well, he's a noble ain't he? If he truly wanted your virtue he could have taken it by now, and no one would have lifted a finger to question it. Remember that bakery shop girl several years back, who was debauched by that Duke from England?"

Lynara shuddered, for she remembered the incident well. . . And though she hadn't admitted as much aloud, the first time she had been dragged to the Red Room by the Tavern Master, she had believed that she would end up in the same state as that girl. . . She surely would have if the Count hadn't merely wished for a _story._

"I have been lucky, Petrego."

"But will your luck continue, Lynnie? That's the question."

Lynara shrugged as she stood from the chair, ready to return to her duties. "Only God can say, my friend. But I shall hope for the best."

The man frowned slightly, before he caught the girl's hand, making her meet his gaze. "Promise you'll be careful with your nobleman, Lynara. Don't do anything foolish or reckless, and stick to groups, eh?"

The brown maid smiled at him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Would that make you feel better, Papa Petrego?"

He blushed and smiled at the nickname, but nodded. "Aye, it would."

"Don't worry for my sake," she said as she walked back towards the bar to continue her work. "Everything will be alright . . . _somehow_."

* * *

The streets of Budapest were lively as the sunset drew ever nearer, marking the approach of the darkest holiday of the year. Despite it still being light out, the town criers had already begun to set up large lanterns along all of the walkways; and each of the shops had set up their own decorations on the outside and inside of their establishments. For years All Hallows Eve had been something to fear and hide away from, but now with the turn of the century, the older superstitions had started to fade and be replaced with eager revelry. Now as Lynara walked along the well-known cobbled streets she marveled in the change of the port city. Though the streamers and lights were beautiful upon first glance, once you truly looked upon them . . . they seemed almost _sinister_. There was something disturbing about the way the shadows danced against the lantern light instead of the sun that still was shining above. And Lynara quickly averted her brown gaze and continued on her way.

After another two hours of serving in the Tavern, the Tavern Master had told her that she was done for the day and was to use the best guest room to get ready. He had obviously been angry about the whole affair, but had kept his negative opinions to himself, which the maid could trace back to the Counts discussion with the portly man the night prior. So Lynara had hugged Lexya, who had already volunteered to help her get ready when she returned, and left to the market to buy a dress.

Now after another hour, the young woman walked back towards the familiar side of the port with three packages clutched in her hands. One for the dress, one for the wrapping to go with it, and the other for a new pair of boots. The young woman once more looked down at the bundles in disbelief, wondering how she had gotten to where she was. She hadn't had a new dress in years, and she had never had an _evening dress_ before. Originally she had tried to refuse the money and what they would buy- when Dracula had offered it to her. But he had been unwilling to take no for an answer, and had insisted that she must look nice at the Masque. He had said he would have picked something for her, but had figured she wouldn't be happy with his choice. When Lynara had questioned how he would have been able to get a dress that would fit her correctly, Dracula had just smirked saying that he was more than familiar with her measurements. Lynara had blushed horribly, her brown cheeks turning into a lighter creamy pink before she had changed the subject- much to the Count's amusement.

Now as the maid strolled through Budapest she thought back on Dracula's smile with unbridled affection. It had been a month since Lynara had first met Vladislaus, and though it hadn't been very long, to the girl it felt like a lifetime . . . and despite the reservations that still ran rampant in her mind she couldn't deny the way her heart flipped at the mere thought of the nobleman, or the smile that came unbidden to her lips when she thought back on the conversations they had shared. The dark skinned maid of the eastern Budapest Tavern had changed, her heart always having been reserved and scared of attachment now filling up. The young woman still could not bring an actual name to this change, but she was most certainly aware of it. Dracula had somehow entered into her solitude and captured her attention, something that no man had ever been able to accomplish. And no matter what happened tonight, that would always mean something to Lynara . . . No matter what became of her and the Count, she would treasure the time they had spent together. And whether they departed as friends . . . or something else, the barmaid would be better for having known him.

Lynara's brown eyes had unknowingly grown misty as she walked mindlessly through the crowded paths, and she quickly tried to wipe them. . . But as her arm raised shakily to her face, the package that housed her new boots slipped from her grasp and fell. With a loud thud they landed in the dirt at her feet, making the maid sigh in annoyance. Though just when she about to lean over to grab them, worried about the state of the parcel after its departure onto the dirty ground, a single hand shot out and took ahold of the package. For a second, as her muddled brain fought to focus, it seemed as if the hand was without an owner. But as her gaze shifted up past the wrist to take in the figure who had rescued her shoes, she realized that the hand was indeed connected to a body.

Lynara eyes grew somewhat wide as she took in the person who stood before her, though she dipped her head in a respectful greeting all the same.

It was a man: a bit taller than herself and strong in a lithe sort of way. His features were handsome, but clearly showed that he was not one who smiled often. His noticeable sea green eyes watched her patiently beneath a brow hidden by the simple cloak he wore- his mouth a firm line that was neither angry nor pleased. Silently he brushed the dirt off of the package, and then with a fluent and unhurried gesture held it out to the young woman in his path. Lynara gently took it from his worn hand, giving him a small smile of gratitude as she inclined her head to him once more.

"Thank you, sir."

The man in return inclined his own head, but still offered no smile. "Ma'am."

His voice was a deep laid whisper- loud enough to hear and stirring in nature. It sounded as if he didn't speak often, and only for actual need instead of want . . . something that Lynara could connect with all too well.

The man stared at her for another second and then, before she could say more to him, he walked past her. His stride was large and in but a few moments he was lost to the crowd of people that flocked along their way.

For a full minute the girl stayed firmly glued to her spot, her eyes staring after the direction the man had gone, before she mentally shook herself. She began walking again . . . but as she did so the maid found her mind wandering to the man. There was no true reason for her pondering; he had said a single word to her and helped her with a package. It was a small feat of kindness. . . But as the girl drew closer to the Tavern lane she found herself curious.

Though the unknown man was now long gone, the barmaid found that his eyes still bored into her conscious . . . They were so _familiar_ . . . so _unique_. Never before had the girl seen eyes of that particular shade- a trait that this stranger and the Count shared.

At the reminder of Dracula and the worry of all that awaited her in just a few hours' time, Lynara pushed the strange affinity to the man far her mind. She entered the Tavern with sure steps and quickly ascended the staircase before walking the length of the hall and entering into the Guest Room where she was to get ready. And as the girl locked the door behind her and slowly began to undress to bathe and change, she cleared her thoughts of all doubt and uncertainty of the Count, the red-haired woman who served him, and the stranger she had run into on the street. . .

. . . Though if she had known what was in store for her, she might have paid closer attention to her instincts and the brief presence of the unknown man . . . But she did not. And as Lynara sank into the pre-drawn water she sighed quietly and submerged herself into the clear blue without further hesitation.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ So this chapter had no Vlad (sorry everyone!) but it was very essential to what is to come. Not only was it setting the scene for the Masque Ball, but it introduced a character that will play a big part in later chapters. Our dear stranger is very, very important. Also, if you want to know what he looks like I have one name for you: Paul Bettany. ;)

Also~! Next Chapter is the All Hallows Eve Ball~! *screeches happily* Sooooo much happens! Ohmygoshhhh! xD

 **Special Thanks To:**

 **Guest:** My dear you left me several lovely reviews and I was blushing! Thank you so much for reading and leaving comments! I'm thrilled that you are enjoying the story!

 **DreamBubbles:** I absolutely love that you are worried about Lynara, it makes me feel very happy as a writer! And your comments are wonderful! And I'm glad that you liked the silver coin torture for Aleera. XD

 **bloodyrose2014:** I hope you continue to enjoy, m'dear. ^^

 **Madam Silver:** That's a pretty good guess for the upcoming events. But I won't spoil. . . not just yet. ;P

 **alexc1209:** Hope you like the next installment, my dear.

 **Remember:** My dear Madame Remember, once again you spoil me rotten and I'm dying from happiness. I swear you leave the most detailed and lovely comments I've ever received. I truly always look forward to what you have found in my chapters and what insights you spotted for the text. Most readers don't divulge what is truly going on in their minds during the story, but I never have to question what you are feeling or thinking while reading my work. I am grateful to you. It would seem that Hollowness is a comon factor between us, but I cannot complain too much. ^^ And I must say that you are right to be more wary of Aleera than Dracula. XD She's gonna be fun in later chapters. . . at least for me. You poor readers will probably hate me afterward. Hahahaha!

Anwhooooo! Hope you guys enjoyed this round, despite there being no Count to make you drool.

See you next chapter, me lovelies~!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Dancing into the Night: Part Ten**

* * *

A blushing young woman was cocooned in silver wings tipped in the deepest of blacks . . . or so it would have appeared to anyone at first glance. But in truth it was just a woman clothed in an evening dress.

It had been two hours since Lynara had returned from her shopping excursion, and now she was finally ready. After bathing and getting her newly acquired shift on, the brown maid had let Lexya in to help her prepare, and ever since the two had been working to perfect the ensemble. In truth, Lynara had never been one to primp- for any reason- and had been grateful for the younger woman's help in the matter. Though she had admittedly argued with her friend several times over little details; such as the face paint that Lexya had tried to smear on her face and the extra time she had wanted to take on brushing out Lynara's unruly curls. But besides those few disagreements, the dark eyed woman had fallen silent and let her makeshift sister take control. And it was only now as Lexya announced that she was _done_ that Lynara once more came back into the moment.

"Come over here and see how beautiful you look, Lynnie," Lexya whispered happily, as she took the other girl's hands into her own and led her over to the mirror in the corner of the guest room.

"Lexya, I'm sure I look nice, but I'm no beauty-" she stopped midsentence as her dark chocolate eyes fell on a living butterfly with beautiful tipped wings (flowered beads of white imbedded in her short curly hair), her expression tensing in surprising as she looked upon a woman she had never seen before.

To her side Lexya stood, smiling from ear to ear, as her older sister stared slack jawed into the mirror. Though the freckled, red-head was only seventeen years old, she could appreciate the womanly glow of the other maid, as well as the beauty that the dress enhanced in her friend. The dress itself was beautiful, but rather simple as far as evening gowns went. But Lynara hadn't been willing to spend all of the Count's coins, so she had picked this garment. And despite Lexya having originally complained about her getting a 'cheap dress', the girl knew, as she watched the stunned woman in the mirror, that there was no other option that would have suited her sister better.

Now as Lynara stood in astonished silence, Lexya slowly placed a hand to her bared shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The brown maid lifted her hand to place it atop the other woman's before bright tears rose in her brown eyes, though they didn't fall as she gazed upon herself.

"That can't be . . . Is that really _me_?"

Lexya laughed softly as she wrapped her arms around Lynara's middle and grinned. "Of course it is. Who else has a shade of skin that dark and mysterious around here?"

"Oh fie-"

"No, Sisi. I mean it!" Lexya let her eyes travel to the beautiful ball gown before they returned to meet her friend's eyes in the reflection of the glass. "If you had lighter skin you wouldn't have a prayer of looking good in that. I for one, am far too pasty white to have dared such a gorgeous thing."

"That is not true, Lexya. You look beautiful no matter what you might wear."

"Flatterer."

For a second the two were quiet before the dark maid spoke again.

"I do not feel myself," Lynara said in awe as she reached down with shaking hands to splay across the soft fabric of her dress. "This is not me. . . It cannot be."

"Not _normally_ Sisi, no," Lexya agreed. "But tonight it is you. . . You _are_ a Lady, no matter what anyone might say."

For a long moment the brown barmaid was still, her posture uneasy, before she turned away from the mirror and wrapped her arms around the red-haired girl. For a second they held onto each other: one for joy in her handy work and the friendship she shared, and the other to pool her lost courage, before the taller and darker of the two addressed the other.

"Thank you, Lexya . . . Your work tonight will do me credit. And I shall think of you in this."

"No, you bloody well won't," Lexya snorted, laughing as she pulled away from the hug and placed a kiss to her surrogate sister's plump cheek. "You'll _think_ of your gentleman and how he'll never be the same after seeing you tonight."

Lynara's face became a brownish pink before she playfully smacked the other girl's arm. "You are terrible, Lexya."

"And you are a Goddess~!" She sang in reply as she reached for Lynara's black wrap and draped it over her as a finishing touch.

"Refrain from blaspheming, sister."

"Oh fine. But you deserve this, Lynnie. You never have fun or do things for yourself; it's about time you had something good happen. So no more being humble and shy this eve, alright? You'll be the Belle of the Ball, and your handsome Count will be lucky to have you on his arm amongst that group of nobles."

Lynara doubted that her presence at the Masque would truly make such an outstanding impact on those attending, but she could not deny the freckled barmaid's enthusiasm and sweet words of encouragement. So instead of fighting her, the brown woman merely hugged her again and kissed her cheek in return.

"What did I ever do to deserve such a devoted sister?"

"You were the one who took me under wing, Lynara- begged the TM to hire me. Gave me a good home away from the docks. Whatever wonderful thing comes, we _share it_. We owe each other." Lexya stopped for a brief moment before she gestured to the door of the Guest Chamber excitedly. "And now, it's time for you to go beautiful Lady. . . Your Count told the Tavern Master that a coach would arrive for you around this time, and you can't be late for your magical evening."

As the two maids walked side by side to the door, Lynara gave the other a wistful smile. "I wish you were coming with me."

"As do I. But I'll make due with hearing about everything in _detail_ when you come back swoonin'."

Lynara laughed nervously, before they reached the staircase of the Tavern- where Lexya stopped to say her goodbyes.

"Give them hell, Sisi."

"Love you too, Lexya."

And with that the brown barmaid forced herself to continue down the steps and walk carefully to the door, opening it gingerly before taking one last look around the Tavern and entering into the chilled night.

* * *

As the door of the Tavern closed soundlessly behind Lynara, her breath caught, as she was surprised by the drastic change of the warmth of the establishment to the cold of the Hallow's breeze. While the maid currently had her new wrap slung securely over her rarely exposed shoulders, the thin material did little to keep out the cold. And with the soft drizzle that was now gliding from the overcast heavens, it was apparent that her dress was not very practical either. The young woman sighed heavily as she immediately began to chide herself for wasting time and the Count's proffered coins on such frivolous apparel, when her attention was caught by a foreign shadow moving into her peripheral vision. Lynara jumped at the sight of the shadow, as if it were a living creature, before her senses returned to her and she realized that the form belonged to another person who stood to her left. With wary eyes the girl turned her adorned head to look at the one who had come so near. And as she focused on them, Lynara was unable to contain her disconcertion.

Standing not two feet away was a lad of twelve or so years, dressed in a smart tunic and feather cap. In one hand he held a large piece of fabric- that Lynara recognized as something servants held over their Master's when it rained, to protect them from the elements- while his other hand that was free, gestured back the way he had come.

"Lady Lynara?" He questioned curiously.

For a second, Lynara was unfit to answer him, due to the unexpected fact that this strange boy had called her by name. But finally, she was able to recover her composure and nod at the lad.

At her affirmation the male youth beamed before he urged her, "This way, Ma'am. Your carriage is waiting."

This news wasn't what she had been expecting, but at the boy's innocent patience with her, the maid did as she was bid and followed him. For several seconds they walked towards the side of the building, with the boy holding the great heavy cloth over the woman's head to keep her dry. Before they rounded the corner of the Tavern structure and Lynara got her first look at the coach she was meant to travel in.

It was pure white and made of the grandest wood and steal, with two horses of the same shade as the transport, bridled with the best equipment that money could buy. It was a dream carriage, straight from a fairytale, and even in the dim light of the chilly evening it was clear that the coach was fit for royalty. . . This made the dark skinned maid anxious as she drew closer to it.

It seemed the Count had spared no expense in his festive preparations. The show of generosity was both incredible as well as utterly daunting, and Lynara would have turned to run back to the safety of the Tavern without delay . . . if it wasn't for the darker part of her mind taking control of her functions.

She couldn't run. Not now when Vladislaus had promised to give her answers, on this very night. There was nothing that she longed for more than the truth he could present. . . Since that fateful night when she had first spoken with the Count, she had sensed something peculiar about him. . . An uncanny personal demon or secret that was just beyond the surface and her view. . . And if she was but brave enough to take a chance Dracula would reveal all to her. It was an opportunity that she might never get again, and she had to know; to let her mind be put to rest in this dark matter of doubt. So, without further hesitation, Lynara approached the carriage and let the boy help her in. Though the young woman was somewhat surprised when the lad- after making sure she was happily settled- made no move to close the door. But he quickly made his reasons for this known.

With nimble hands the male youth reached towards the far seat of the transport (opposite of the woman) to grab two items there: a tinder and flint and what appeared to be a candle. Briefly the boy fiddled with the tinder and flint, striking a spark on the wick of the light, before a bobbing glow erupted inside of the coach. Once he was pleased that the candle would not go out, the twelve year old once more addressed the barmaid.

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience, Ma'am. But my orders were very strict and I must follow them."

"That's alright," Lynara assured him with a kind nod of acceptance. "Say what you must, sir. I'm in no hurry, as long as you aren't."

As she called him 'sir' the boy visibly brightened, before unconsciously puffing out his chest importantly and continuing.

"The Count has left you a message, my lady. He asked that you read it before we depart for his Summer Palace."

As he said this, the boy pointed to the opposite seat again, where Lynara now realized there were housed two more items. On the dark coverlet of the seat was a single letter and beside it rested the blackest flower that the maid had ever set eyes upon. The lad, witnessing her observation of the articles in question, then carefully placed the candle on the floor of the carriage and backed out of the space.

"I await your instructions after reading my Master's letter, Ma'am. Please take all the time you require."

Then without another word, the male youth closed the carriage door, leaving the barmaid alone to her own devices.

For a long time Lynara merely stared at the correspondence, thinking of what information it might contain, before she took the clean paper in her calloused right hand. Then slowly she unfolded the parchment and began to read the elegant hand before her.

* * *

 _ **She walks in beauty, like the night**_ _ **o**_ _ **f cloudless climes and starry skies.**_

 _ **And all that's best of dark and bright**_ _ **,**_ _ **meet in her aspect and her eyes**_

 _ **Thus mellow'd to that tender light**_ _ **;**_ _ **which heaven to gaudy day denies.**_

 _ **One shade the more, one ray the less- had half impaired the nameless grace**_

 _ **Which waves in every raven tress,**_ _ **or softly lightens o'er her face;**_ _ **where thoughts serenely sweet express**_

 _ **How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.**_

 _ **And on that cheek, and o'er that brow: so soft, so calm, yet eloquent**_

 _ **The smiles that win, the tints that glow,**_ _ **but tell of days in goodness spent**_

 _ **A mind at peace with all below**_

 _ **A heart whose love is innocent.**_

* * *

Unknowingly tears had formed in Lynara's woodland eyes as she read the beautiful verse written in the Count's hand. In her younger days while learning to read, she had read many poems and sonnets under the instruction of the Monks. But as she gazed upon the personal message within the beautifully phrased words, she felt her heart falter and then rise in her chest, as she once more moved her eyes to the page, seeing more written underneath what she had read.

* * *

 _ **My dear Lynara,**_

 _ **I trust that this letter finds you safe and securely tucked away. My apologies for the delay, but I wished to leave the final decision of the evening in your hands, my darling.**_

 _ **Since our first meeting you have been cautious of your attentions; reserved in what you choose to give. . . And now I must ask if you are willing to push past your boundaries altogether. As you may recall, I made a vow to share all of my secrets with you, my dear, and I am bound by my word. But you must ask yourself if it is truly something you desire. What you learn will transform the friendly affection that we have created; whether it will be for the better or the worse I am still uncertain. But this change is inevitable should we continue on our current path.**_

 _ **I will not blame you should you decide to stay at your Tavern, Lynara. What I ask will take great deal of trust. Such a thing cannot be bought nor falsified, so I will not ask for it lightly. It must be from your heart, my darling, and I will not manipulate your decision. Whatever you choose, I shall understand and respect you for it.**_

 _ **All yours,**_

 _ **Vladislaus**_

* * *

It seemed like the world had frozen as the brown maid had read the sincere message. And as her misty eyes lifted to look at the black flower she felt the first tears finally fall down her dark cheeks.

For all of her life, the young woman had been alone; doubting herself and the possibility that happiness might ever find her. But now as she reached out for the obsidian blossom, she knew that she was _already_ changed. From the moment, Dracula had first called her by name and smiled at her, she had hoped for him to be different. And he had been. He _was._ He had broken through a heart made of stone and brought life back into an existence that had stopped having meaning. Since the day she had taken murdered her uncle, the woman's life had been cursed. . . But now, as she reread Vladislaus' declaration, she found that she was unafraid. For the first time in years, Lynara was certain of what to do, and her misgivings began to melt away.

 _What do I feel for the Count,_ Lynara wondered. _What drives me so mindlessly and yet makes me think so clearly?_

Tenderly, the woman took the flower into her hands, cupping it reverently, before she reached up and placed it amid the little white beaded flowers that already donned her head. With steady fingers the girl weaved the steam deep into her tight curls, before she released it. Though she now couldn't see it, the girl knew that her ensemble was truly complete.

Then, the dark barmaid of the Tavern knocked her knuckles against the carriage door, which was immediately opened by the boy. He gazed at her for a moment before he broke the silence with a question.

"What is your command, my lady?"

Lynara smiled as she blew out the candle and cradled the letter in her palm, her eyes crinkling around the edges as she dipped her head at him.

"We mustn't waste any more time . . . Take me to the Summer Palace."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Sorry about the filler chapter guys, but I'm really having to set myself up for what's coming. The next three to four chapters are going to be a non-stop ride of crazy, romantic plot and twist, so I'm having to prepare big time. Originally this was just going to be the introduction section of the Masque Ball chapter, but I seriously run out of steam after about 2,500 to 3,000 words. XD Soooo, it's been split up!

Any predictions, thoughts, opinions, concerns? And do you guys believe that Dracula really _loves_ Lynara? Or is it just a ploy for something sinister? *grins evilly* Guess, guess, guess away~!

The poem used in this chapter was _**She Walks in Beauty: by Lord Byron**_ though I originally heard it read by Ron Perlman in the soundtrack for the 1980's Beauty and the Beast TV Show. (Ya'll need to hear that to understand the feels that it was mean to bring for this chapter! PM me if you need a link to it! ^^)

Holy cow, I'm so intimidated for next chapter! *faints while laughing* Fingers crossed I can write what I'm seeing in my head. Hahahahaha~!

 ******* **And** Lynara's black, white, and gray dress/ensemble was actually symbolic. Though she is the heroine of the story, she is also a grayscale character and I thought it would be fun to show that physically as well as mentally. ;)

Special shout and thanks to:

 **AnimeFan001:** I'm glad you enjoyed the new chapters, and yes I shall be continuing. This story is going to be finished if it's the last thing I do.

 **Cloelius Princess:** I'm thrilled that you think my story is not ordinary! :D That's a great relief to me. I'd hate for all of this to be bland and boring for you lovely readers.

 **alexc1209:** I hate to spoil but the stranger from last chapter is _not_ Van Helsing. (Sorry if you were hoping it was!) Thanks for continuing to read, my dear!

 **Madam Silver:** Hopefully I'll be able to write fast so you won't have to wonder what will happen at the Ball. XD I have some very interesting stuff ahead so fingers crossed I can get it done in a timely manner. Lol

 **12345678910:** Oh my heavens! Thank you so much! I'm so happy that you are enjoying the story still! Fingers crossed you like the Masque Ball bit too! :D

 **MercyShadow:** Sorry to disappoint you about the strange not be VH. XD I know that a couple people were hoping it would be him. But no worries he'll turn up later on. And I must thank you for the flattering comment you left! To say that I'm anywhere near your top three is downright humbling, and the fact that you're enjoying the story so much is just wonderful! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I hope you continue to have fun with the story!

 **Remember:** I'm so happy that you liked Petrego, Madame Remember! And you actually had the imagining right with him. I meant that the quiet stranger Lynara bumped into on the street was supposed to be based on Paul Bettany. (sorry for the confusion!) But I'm once more beside myself from your lovely and overflowing review! I always find myself anxious to hear your thoughts and know what you think of my newest chapter. I swear I get giddy whenever I see your icon and name. XD And I must say that I've become a huge fan of your work as well! You write the best VH stories~! Thank you so much for continuing to support and read Dancing into the Night! I cannot tell you grateful I truly am!

Love you guys! See you next chapter~!

 _ **~Lyn Harkeran**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Dancing into the Night: Part Eleven**

* * *

Lynara watched silently as the world glided by her in dark and light fragments; her brown eyes searching the shadows with strange abandon. It was nearing midnight, the devil's hour, and the streets of Budapest were empty, despite the fact that it had stopped raining. The strange lanterns from earlier still remained lit along all the roads and shops, but not a person could be seen idling or enjoying the evening. The dark maid wondered upon this as the carriage clattered undisturbed along its way, and the towering Summer Palace finally came into view. Why go to the trouble of setting special beacons if no one was there to use or see them?

 _It's to keep the evil at bay,_ the girl realized as the coach began to slow down and her surreal journey came to an end. _They are frightened of the darkness and they think the lights will save them from it._

Lynara who was usually an empathetic person, found that until recently she had never feared the night or the gloom it brought. She had always been indifferent to the eternal change of daylight to dusk, seeing as her inner seclusion had affected everything about her outlook on life. . . But after experiencing the fright of being watched from the shadows while she had chopped wood for the Tavern's fires; the young woman now knew why the simple folk hid indoors after the sun set. There was nothing more disconcerting than being stalked by something just beyond your vision; and more importantly, knowing that even with the power of sight you were still helpless. After Lynara's run-in with the inhuman Aleera, the maid had come to the conclusion that it was the she demon that had been watching her that night. . . And, had she not been able to enter back into the glowing light of the Tavern so quickly, that she might have been dead long ago.

 _Why am I thinking of her_ , Lynara wondered as she heard the boy call out to the horses, making them halt. _She has nothing to do with this_.

But the woman knew that she was lying to herself. From the moment Dracula had claimed to _know_ the red-haired _Nosferatu,_ it had been obvious that the secrets the man kept where somehow connected to her. No matter what the maid learned tonight, she was sure that Aleera would have a generous part to play.

And as Lynara realized this, she heard several light footsteps outside, before the carriage door opened and the boy from before was holding out his hand to her.

"We've arrived, Ma'am."

Lynara nodded to him wordlessly before girding herself. She had come here for answers _and_ because she had decided to place her trust in Vladislaus. There was no point in questioning his motives now that she had come. Since the moment she had awoken from her fever to find the nobleman at her side, there had been no turning back. He had accepted her despite her dark history and beginnings, and had given her a choice when she had always been one without options. He had trusted her enough to come, and she would not disappoint him now.

The maid reached out her right hand and accepted the boy's help from the high carriage, thanking him quietly as he closed the door behind her and bowed respectfully.

"This is where I must leave you, my lady," he said politely. "But if you follow the lighted trail to the entryway the doorman will direct you to the party."

Then as Lynara watched him, the lad moved back to the driver's seat of the coach and drove away, leaving her alone at the foot of a beautiful trail. As the sound of the wheels disappeared into the distance, the dark maid gently lifted her dress up with calloused hands and began to walk towards the massive structure that lay ahead of her. It rose up in the night like a great medieval fortress, with more windows and stone than could ever be singularly counted. Lynara had never set eyes upon it before, seeing as it was past her usual excursions into the port, but she found that it strangely appealed to her senses. The scents of freshly grown flora was potent in the damp air of the October eve, and the gothic atmosphere was oddly welcoming.

The walk up the lighted pathway only took Lynara a moment, seeing as the carriage had stopped directly before it and the Summer Palace was not far past that. And though it was dark, the woman's keen eyes picked up on the outline of what appeared to be a garden just beyond her limited eyesight. She quickly realized that these must have been the flowers she had smelled on the rain tinted wind. It was truly a little detail in the scheme of things, but it was enough to make the woman smile as she drew toward the great front steps of the Palace. Living in the industrial part of the port town, the barmaid very rarely got to enjoy the sweet fragrance of flowers, and now she was able to leisurely, and quite happily, fill her lungs with the lovely smell. She couldn't have deciphered what breeds of blossom were housed within the grounds, but the mixture was enough to momentarily soothe her nerves as she came to stand before the giant door. Though she had resigned herself to seeing the Count and being brave, the maid was still of a shyer nature and knew that she would have to remind herself of her reasons more than once to stay grounded.

Upon climbing the last of the stairs, Lynara was faced with a man in expensive dress clothes. With closer inspection, the woman could tell he was a servant of the manor, but he still stood erect and wore a party mask that completely hid his eyes from her view. It seemed even the servants were made to dress for the occasion of the All Hallow's Eve Masque, a strange thing that didn't slip the woman's notice.

For a moment the two figures were silent, before Lynara's voice rang out in the quiet night. "Good evening, sir. I'm afraid I have no invitation but-"

"You are expected, Madame," the doorman said in a bass voice that seemed to come from the very earth. "The Lady Lynara is in _no need_ of an invitation."

The young woman felt flattered and startled by the fact that this man seemed to recognize her on sight alone, but only dipped her head in acceptance. She would not show everyone she encountered tonight her reservations or ignorance to the ways of the upper class. Though she was most certainly uninformed of what awaited her beyond the entrance, the woman promised herself that she would hold her head high and try her best to not be discouraged.

So when the doorman bid her to follow him into the depths of the Palace, the brown skinned maid of the Tavern gave no complaint and silently preceded to match his step.

* * *

The ballroom was absolutely beautiful and far larger than any room that Lynara had ever been privy to. A thousand candles lined all corners of the room, making the usually weak light, powerful and warm as it shone upon the majestic gallery that met the woman's astonished gaze. The walls were pure creme marble with twenty or so statues built into the crevices, as if the figures were merely giants who had been trapped in stone work. They lived and breathed, almost in equivalence with the tapestries that had been placed in-between them. Never before had Lynara seen art that seemed so alive; these hand-painted scenes of Florence and Rome and so many other places she had never even dreamed of. With wonderment shining in her chocolate orbs, the young woman took in the décor of the ballroom like a blind man being graced with his eyes for the first time. Though such artificial things had never appealed to the maid before, she could not help but be impressed by the beauty that grasped at her heart. Everywhere she looked there was red (a crimson so vibrant and thick that she could have sworn it was painted with blood) and gold as bright and expensive as a king's crown. The Summer Palace was undoubtedly a place for royalty, and though Lynara had been invited by the host, she knew that she would never truly be welcomed here. While her surroundings had brought her immediate joy, the woman now felt her heart turn cold as her eyes focused on the other part of the room that she had unknowingly ignored.

Dancing and moving in droves, hundreds of revelers skirted the colossal ballroom, dressed in the most beautiful clothing of silk, taffeta, and velvet. All more brilliant and breathtaking than the last, and all cloaked from the eye with masks. Jugglers, acrobats, fire blowers and entertainers walked among the party-goers, acting as a sort of balance between audience and performers, as the dancers circled around them effortlessly. They spun around and around to the lively music that the musicians played gaily, with not a care to be had. . . And as Lynara watched them, she felt her heart sink in her chest. . .

There was something terribly _off_ with this picture and setting. . . Perhaps it was the masks that covered every face but her own, or their movements that were so perfect and without normal fault, or even the extreme beauty that was shown in so raffish a way . . . but as she watched them an overwhelming feeling of dread instantly took hold of the girl, and she fell back against the nearest wall in trepidation. Her pulse climbed to a deafening cry against her chest cavity as her breath quickened painfully. It was a panic attack, but one far more potent than any she had ever experienced in all her days. She wasn't safe here. . . These people were all _wrong_ and she was in danger. How Lynara knew this or why she was so sure of it was unclear. But the instinct of self-preservation was too strong to dismiss.

Lynara gasped as she fought the unbidden urge to scream, and quickly turned back the way the doorman had led her- to flee from the dissoluteness that was nearly choking her. . . But before she could leave the ballroom, a flash of black and gold flashed through her peripheral vision and she turned back against her will. And as her gaze fell upon the figure that had caught her dazed attention, Lynara's breath caught in her throat and her heart clenched.

Hair the shade of a raven's wing pulled back into a becoming ponytail, and eyes bluer than the clearest Romanian summer sky.

 _Dracula._

As the Count came fully into the maid's line of sight, the woman felt the anxiety that had been building in her chest temper and calm, and the insurmountable agitation began to dissipate as she stared at him. After a moment she was able to breathe again, but it was then that the girl noticed that Vladislaus was _different._

He stood amidst a large group of the masked merrymakers, his posture straight and direct as he leisurely let the number flock about him subserviently. His face, usually softened by affection in Lynara's presence, now was hard and held a smug expression. For a breath the young woman considered the intimidating man before her, questioning if the powerful, unchallenged leader that stood among these unearthly folk could possibly be the same man she had come to know. Surely he couldn't be. . . But he _was. . ._ The Count was a completely different person as he gazed with unfeeling eyes upon the figures who so obviously revered and worshiped him as a superior and senior. He was emotionless and oh so _cold_ , as if he was made of ice instead of flesh. . . A truly gruesome thought.

After a time Lynara deliberated on turning away from the unsettling scene, her mind shaken by the rampant emotions she had experienced in so short a time- but just as her leading foot began to turn on the polished floor, her eyes were met with a pair of blood stirring blue ones and she stopped mid step.

From across the ballroom, Dracula had finally found her with his all-seeing eyes, and now he stared openly at her. And as he did so, the young maid watched in awe as the arrogant lines of the Count's face melted into a warm smile. The expression was genuine as far as the girl could tell, and the transformation made her heart flip happily in her chest. The handsome noble seemed to realize his effect on his guest, despite being so far away from her, for his eyes twinkled in amusement in the festive light of the candles.

Lynara dipped her head to him, the white flowered beads sparkling like a handful of winter stars, before she met his gaze again and alleviation swarmed her features. The Count's smile grew as he in turn inclined his head in greeting, before his eyes finally drifted away from the maid's woodland orbs and unhurriedly regarded the rest of her body. The fact that he had looked upon her face before the rest of her made the woman grateful, but the feeling was short lived as self-doubt crept to the corners of her conscious again.

As the Count openly paid heed to her ensemble and womanly curves, Lynara could honestly say that she had never felt more exposed or laid bare. His uniquely wise eyes seemed to see through her to gaze upon her very soul, and the woman shivered under his thorough inspection.

Dracula took his time with his examination, though surprisingly his gaze was not of a lustful or hungry sort, but rather a gentle elation. As if by seeing her, the man had gained peace of mind and a replenished sense of exuberance.

It was an eternity that he looked appreciatively upon the maid, before he began to move through the crowd towards her. At first it seemed as if his change of course might be hindered by the countless bodies that surrounded him on all sides, but to Lynara's bewilderment, all of the masked ones stopped and immediately created room for the Count to pass. No one dared to touch him as he strode through the throng . . . almost as if they feared what the outcome of such a simple grazing might warrant. Power radiated off of him with each step, and the ballroom went absolutely silent save for the distinct sound of the Host's hessian boots on the marble floor.

It took all of Lynara's willpower to refrain from running, when all of the revelers near her backed away and left her in the limelight. But she merely clenched her jaw tight and forced herself to stay still. She was safe now; Dracula was in view and growing closer by the second- her worries were pointless.

Then, just as the woman was about to question herself again, a dark shadow loomed over her and she knew that the Count had finally reached her. Looking up at him, Lynara saw the recognizable plains of the handsome face and the smile up close, and she couldn't help but have her lips mimic his. The Count dropped into a deep formal bow, before silently holding out his arm to the maid as a way of invitation for her to come to him. His expression was affectionate and reassuring as he lifted a brow at her meaningfully.

She had come. Despite the chance he had given her to stay away with her blissful ignorance and endearing innocence intact. . . She had _come._ She had trusted him enough to risk it all and defy her own instincts to flee.

For a moment the Count and the Bar Maid stood, looking into each other's eyes: deepest blue and woodland brown. And in that lapse of time there was no one else in the ballroom, and neither of the two had ever seen another person appear as beautiful as the one who stood before them. The woman draped in the delicate gray with white pinpricks of starlight in her hair, and the man cloaked in black, his hair caressed with the purest of golds.

Lynara gently reached out and placed a hand to his offered arm, a light blush climbing the length of her neck to the edges of her cheekbones as his strong hand came up to rest above her own, securing it.

"My lovely storyteller decided to honor me with her presence."

"Because a gentleman was willing to offer her a choice in the matter," Lynara returned softly.

Dracula made an appreciative sound before gestured with a hand to her. "You are unparalleled, my beautiful Lynara."

At the humble dip of her head, he could tell that she couldn't accept his compliment, but he quickly tipped her chin back up with his thumb. "Tonight you may not doubt your allure, my darling. I can assure you that you have rightly bewitched me and all those who have beheld you."

Lynara was silent for a breath before she met his gaze again, her blush growing brighter as she said calmly, "There is only one person I would care to impress, Count . . . and he has already flattered me beyond measure."

Dracula's expression grew tender as he lifted the woman's hand up to gently kiss her knuckles, and gave her a coy grin.

"It is _I_ who am flattered, my dear." Then as she bashfully regarded him, he continued, ". . . But where are my manners: would the lovely lady care to dance and join in the festivities?"

"I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with such things, sir."

He tipped his head ever so slightly to the side, playfully. "Then let me guide you, lovely one."

Without another word, Dracula led the woman several feet further into the ballroom and swept her close to him. And then as if by his command alone the musicians once more began to play and the room was once more abuzz with the merrymakers around them. Lynara- somewhat awkwardly- let the Count take her hand into his much colder one, before he drew her body a mere breath away from his own.

"Calm yourself," he whispered comfortingly as they began to sway to the beautiful waltz that now echoed through the ballroom. "Do not worry about what is accepted or proper, my darling. Allow your soul to seek for mine without the hindrance of your mind."

His words surprised her, but she fought to do as he bid. Lynara had never heard of dancing being connected to the soul, but as she clumsily followed after Dracula's steps, it slowly began to make sense to her. Dancing was similar to two souls meeting: first there were the initial pleasantries and polite banter . . . and then there was the profound searching of the other. Lynara's movements gradually became more relaxed as her instincts took over for her mind; and as she stopped thinking the _true_ dance began.

From all sides of the ballroom, the stunning gray and black couple could easily be seen among the other dancers, for they were lost to everything but the moment they partook in. They seemed to float on the polished marble, and with each passing second they drew more from each other, taking all and nothing from their partner with each pulsation of the gorgeous song that made them proceed as one. Each step reflected by another, each dip and twirl accounted for with a subtle gesture or smile. And as one song turned into several, the dark skinned maid shook her head in amazement. The woman had never believed herself to be graceful or posed in any physical matter, but when she danced with Vladislaus she became a swan.

After several more minutes of peaceful silence between the two, the nobleman spoke, as yet another aria began, this time sung by a fair opera singer with an otherworldly voice.

"Thank you for joining me, my dear . . . I almost feared that you would keep your distance."

Lynara looked up at him from where her eyes had been unfocused, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of relief upon his face before it was overthrown by his tell-tale affection.

"You asked me to come and I am here."

"For answers?"

Lynara thought upon this for a moment before she corrected, "For _truth_."

Dracula relinquished his grip on the woman's waist as he elegantly spun her out and around his still form, before bringing her back in gently. As always, he took the utmost care with his hands, as if she was extremely fragile and would break if handled to roughly.

"Then I shall indulge you, Lynara . . . But first there is something that I must make clear to you."

"Say what you will, Vladislaus. I will listen."

When she said his name aloud, a shuddering breath flew past his lips and his eyes grew misty- as he leaned down and let his nose nuzzle against the woman's. When her heart pulsed faster than before, due to the intimate action, he hummed in appreciation. It was so fluttery, her heart; and they were currently dancing to the beat.

"I must confess, I have not been entirely honest with you, my dear." As the woman's brow quirked curiously he leaned down farther, letting his nose slide from her own before pressing his cheek to hers, so as to whisper in her ear. "My intentions have never been completely innocent, I fear."

At his revelation and the cool feeling of his breath upon her ear, Lynara shuddered against him but didn't pull away as she answered. "It's never been about the stories."

Dracula shook his raven head gently as he nuzzled closer to her and placed a kiss to her cheek. All the while, the golden circlets in his ears flashed in the flickering light of the candles that surrounded them.

"No Lynara. My original attention for you was manifested by something else."

". . . Then what did you want of me?"

Ethereal blue eyes focused intently, as the Count gave the Tavern Maid an unreadable smile. Since their first encounter, they had been running towards this moment; this admittance. And though they now stood equally, both were hiding their fearof the outcome.

"I wanted your tales Lynara, as I expressed . . . and so much more. . . From the first instant I beheld you I knew you were my perfect fit . . . my other half."

Lynara's forehead crinkled with confusion. "What are you saying, Count?"

"I'm saying that I am in love with the beautiful storyteller who now stands before me. . . Though how such a thing is possible for one without a heart, I cannot hope to comprehend."

Lynara stopped dancing and pulled back to stare at him, her eyes growing wide as her mouth opened and closed several times in shock as his words sunk in. The slightest hint of horror rising to cloud her surprised countenance as she shook her head.

"T-That's. . . That's not possible. . ."

"It is, my dear," he interjected gently, reaching for her hand before resting it above where his heart lay in silence. "And yet my undead heart almost beats . . . . for my _Soul's Match_."

Several tears ran down the maid's face as the truth slowly became clear to her. . . The reason he only visited the Tavern at night and slept through the day. His forever cold skin and non-existent appetite for normal food . . . and his connection and obvious power over Aleera . . .

It had been there to see since the beginning, just beyond her view, but she had never been smart enough or brave enough to question it. She had been blind and gone along willingly, all the while he had been watching her and learning of her naivety. She hadn't wanted to believe it or see it, so she hadn't. . . Until now when the world was crashing down on her.

 _Nosferatu_. Her mind chanted viciously. _Nosferatu . . . Nosferatu . . . Nosferatu . . . Nosferatu . . . ._

 _ **. . . Vampire . . .**_

More tears fell from the woman's dark eyes before she was finally able to find her voice. It came out a broken rasp as her emotions got the better of her.

"Y-You are mistaken, sir. . . I cannot be your Soul's Match because I do not believe in such things."

Dracula looked upon her quizzically, but even with her somewhat blurry vision the maid could see the hurt in his eyes.

"My heart no longer beats and I know it to be fact. Why can you not accept it, Lynara?"

She took a step backwards, away from him, shaking her head harder. "Souls are the life-force of a body, but the concept of a soul mate bares no meaning to me."

"Why is that," he pressed.

"It is a fairy story, told to make little girls hope for a caring husband and a brighter future! While in truth, they shall get a gambling, violent piece of scum who has them cook and clean and raise his children without rest or respite!" Here Lynara paused as her now angry tears filled her woodland eyes. "There is _no_ love of life, nor soul mate. There is just life and death and the middle ground where your kind thrive. And the ones of us that don't get used or broken have to grow smart or become heartless to survive!"

For a long moment silence stood firmly between them, the young woman dejectedly pushing back her tears, while the creature watched her with what appeared to be both respect and pity. Raising his bare hand to caress her cheek once more, he finally asked solemnly, "What monster has tainted you, little Lynara, that you are so scared of _life?_ You murdered the man who stood between yourself and happiness. Why then does he still haunt your perceptions and thoughts?"

"Because despite my uncle's evil heart he showed me the truth! Love _isn't_ real!"

"It is very real, my darling. But you must be brave enough to grasp it first."

Lynara shook her flower embedded head dolefully as she sobbed, "I can't . . . And never will. . ."

Then she turned from him and fled from the ballroom as the clock chimed the hour and the revelers danced gaily to their unearthly tune.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_

Holy cow! This chapter . . . just this chapter. . . I swear the drama and description almost killed me off. I rewrote this sucker times before I finally just had to settle with what I had. XD It isn't exactly what I envisioned, but sadly my writing prowess doesn't match my mental images, so hopefully it isn't too bad. I gave it my best and this is seriously the longest chapter to date and I'm about to pass out. Hahahah~!

So the truth/plot twist ball has started rolling and from here on out it's gonna be crazy and tie back into the original VH film. A lot of things will be altered, but part of the canon are going to be surfacing. Also, I want to giggle and cry at what's coming! I gotta write faster so I can share the pain and joy with you guys! It sucks having to keep it a secret. Lol

Anyway, hope you guys liked the All Hallow's Eve Ball chapter! I gave it my best! Any thoughts, impressions, insights you guys have for what happened or what's coming? I'd love to hear.

Special shout and thanks to:

 **bloodyrose2014:** Hahahah, it's so darn intense. Hope you enjoy it, dearie! ^^

 **AnimeFan001:** I'm glad that you're still enjoying the story! And I'm not giving this one up. I'm having too much fun torturing myself with typing until all hours of the morning. XD

 **alexc1209:** Nice call with it being the famous VH ball. I changed some things to better fit the plot, but I tried to make it as similar to the film scene as possible. ^^ And I think you might be right about what the Count wants. Hehh ehhhe, but I won't spoil! Enjoy lovely!

 **Cloelius Princess:** I'm so glad that someone else knows the old B&B TV Show! That makes me extremely happy! And I'm so happy that you're still loving the story! Fingers crossed you continue to, eh? ;)

 **Madam Silver:** You had a good guess about the Ball, but sadly no Aleera this chapter. But I promise some fun times next chappie. ^^

 **Remember:** Dear Madame Remember, once again thanks are in order. As always the praise makes me extremely happy and also helps me strive to write faster and better. You often say that you feel repetitive in your compliments and are a broken record, but I assure you I never feel that that is the case. ^^ I always love to hear your thoughts because you formulate so wonderfully and sincerely! I'm truly grateful that you believe Lynara to be a good leading cast OC. No compliment could be greater, seeing as she is based directly upon myself. (Hahahah, I know. Unoriginally girlie wants a crack at the fictional guy so she writes a fanfiction for herself with a pairing of angsty romance. XD) But in all honesty, I've tried very hard to write her as myself and as another entity, so your faith in the character is very beautiful to me. I felt shaky as heck on this chapter, seeing as it was so crucial and mammoth sized for me as a writer, but I hope that you can enjoy it like you have the rest. ^^

Love you guys! See you next chapter~!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Dancing into the Night: Part Twelve**

* * *

 _Tears._ Tears and desolation. It was all the brown barmaid could fathom as she ran from the accursed Summer Palace and into the chilled Hallow's night. Though her vision was blurry due to her tears, somehow she was able to make it from the grounds without falling or otherwise injuring herself. If she had been of sound mind at the time, the girl would have been astounded that such a feat was possible. But she was far from sound- so she paid it no heed.

Lynara had rushed through the corridors of the castle in a panic driven stupor, back the way she had been guided, and had flown past the doorman who still stood as silent sentry outside the magnificent manor. She had moved past him without a word, and as the lighted trail had come into view, the woman had pushed herself to go even faster. Though it was utterly black out and the evening was covered in a rather foreboding fog, Lynara did not stop her departure. Instead she had run back towards the well-known part of Budapest with her shaking hands holding up the sides of her dress so she could move better, and her heart stuttering painfully in her chest.

Now as she sprinted through countless cobbled ways in the hopes of finding something familiar, the woman truly questioned herself sanity as the events of the Masque replayed in her wearied conscious. The otherworldly revelers, the sea of expressionless masks swaying to a song that wasn't quite right, and _**him.**_ The one that wasn't as he seemed. The one who had broken her and left her internally bleeding, as she now frantically sought for the way home.

It was true that Dracula had never physically hurt her; but at this point a beating would have been more preferable. There was no sense to her thoughts, no quality or understanding, and for a woman that had always relied so utterly upon her instincts, it was completely disheartening. She was caught in a limbo of the mind; her will power tested to the limits as she fought off the beginnings of hysteria and the strange nagging in the very back of her focus.

The Count had betrayed her with half-truths and impossible hopes. Not for wealth or status or for even a happily ever after. But he had transformed her. Made her perceive the world and even herself differently. And for once in her short life, the woman had believed herself better than the worthless scum she had been born as. For once she had felt that she was beautiful and wanted. . . But now it was all ruined. Ruined by what had been hidden and omitted from her. . . But strangely enough the thing that made her sob in despair as she rounded onto a foreign lane, wasn't Vladislaus's secret or what he had kept from her. . . It was what he had claimed after the fact.

Ever since that fateful day when Lynara had killed her uncle, the woman had vowed never to let herself fall victim to another man's mercy. And it was a promise she had always kept. Sure there had been times when the Tavern Master had slapped her around, or moments when a drunken man's hands wandered to unsavory places. But the maid had always been able to get back on track and drain herself of all emotion. Love and devotion didn't exist in a world such as this, and women who believed contrariwise were only bound for disappointment and loss. . . She had accepted that she would die on her own, just as she had lived and grown alone. The maid had always known that being a free and unbound woman was the best path to take . . . so why was her heart crumbling into dust as she ran? Why did every fiber of her being want to return to _**him?**_

 _He wasn't honest with you,_ Lynara screamed internally, shaking her beaded head angrily. He wasn't even human!

 _But you_ _ **love**_ _him._

With a shuddering gasp, the woman tripped and fell to the hard cobblestones, sobbing as her internal conflict came to a head.

 _You love the vampire . . . you love the blood drinker . . . the murderer . . . because you're a murderer too._

"No," Lynara choked aloud as she clawed against the stones and lifted her eyes heavenward to the moon that shone above her through a cloud bank of fog. _"I love him because of the good I saw!"_

 _That is just an excuse, Lynara! A reason to forgive all! You have been naïve since you met him. Will you continue to be so now that you know the truth?_

" _What am I to do? I cannot change my heart! I HAVE TRIED! I HAVE TRIED TO STAY FIRM! TO STAY STRONG AGAINST HIM! BUT I CANNOT! I HAVE BROKEN MY OWN LAWS AND GUIDANCES, AND I WOULDN'T DO THAT FOR SOMEONE UNWORTHY!"_

As Lynara yelled at the opposing side of her mind, she felt a great weight slowly begin to lift from her heaving chest. Though when she had first thought the defensive words, it had merely been an emotional outburst, the woman now thought upon it. For years she had trusted her judgment in dire situations. She had come out of more scrapes than she could count. . . So why should this newest obstacle be any different?

 _My heart wouldn't. . . My heart_ _ **couldn't**_ _be captured by someone who wasn't worthy of it. I've been strong for too long. I've never been taken in by desire or fits of passion. I cannot be as stupid as to want to give myself over without good reason._

Once more the darker part of the woman's mind spoke, making her jaw clench in thought.

 _But he is a_ _ **vampire**_ _. Are you just going to conveniently forget that fact?_

" _No_ ," she returned. _"But I won't forget the bond I have with him either. He has been the best friend and companion I've ever known. Would I just throw that all away because of what he is?"_

 _He drinks blood to survive! You've heard the tales of the Carpathians! You know that his kind are evil! You were raised with the Holy Brothers! You were to become a Nun! You know that his soul is damned!_

A raspy laugh of despair rose from the woman's throat. _"Then I must be damned too . . . for my soul longs for his."_

"My, my. . . Lost are we?"

Lynara's wide eyes snapped up from the road beneath her, the unknown male voice startling her out of her personal inner dialogue. For a second her eyes refused to adjust to the dark figure that loomed above her, but she fought to regain her composure and quickly moved from her knees to a standing position. Her legs were shaking so badly that she almost fell, but at the last second the maid was able to catch her balance and stay firm. And it was then that the real world once more came into focus and the woman's worst nightmare was realized.

When she had been running, Lynara had unknowingly entered the docks, and from the looks of it, was only a hop-skip-and a jump from the bay. During the daylight hours this might have been alright, but for a woman on her own in the depths of night, this was by far the worst place she could have been. The sailors that lived on these docks were rabid animals with only one thing in mind: carnal pleasures. All sensible women in Budapest had been warned against coming here, for more than a few girls had been taken advantage of or found face down in the bay. . . And now Lynara was in the middle of the district, on her own, without even a stick or rock for protection.

As if this wouldn't have been bad enough, it was obvious now that her presence had garnered attention. For a man stood before the barmaid, eyeing her with devious amusement as she scrambled away from him.

"Oh, come now girlie," the man chided with a deep laugh. "I don't bite."

Lynara instantly wanted to yell at him to leave her be, but the rational part of her mind kicked in and she found herself trying to answer him calmly. Perhaps if she was reasonable she could find a way out of this. Maybe he was just flirtatious but didn't mean true harm. . . She could only hope that this was the case.

"I mean no disrespect, sir. But I am expected home and mustn't delay."

For a breath the man's brow rose in surprise, before he laughed again and called out into the night. "Well, ya hear that! We've got ourselves a lady, boys! And a properly dressed one at that!"

At the troubling statement, two more figures appeared from the shadows on either side of the maid, and she felt her heart rise in dismay. She was cornered and had no prayer of out running them. Perhaps if she'd had her normal work dress on she'd have had better odds. But wearing this evening dress that reached down to her feet? She was handicapped in her movements.

"Please," she pleaded softly, her voice breaking as they began to advance on her. "Let me go!"

"Don't worry, my lady," the spokesperson of the three said eagerly, making fun of her with a dip of his head. "I promise we'll let you go . . . after we've had some fun."

For a moment it seemed as if Lynara's fear would get the better of her, but finally as the one who had spoken drew close enough to reach her, the woman's instincts kicked in. Drawing her fist back she threw a punch hitting the man squarely in the jaw, before drawing back her knee and connecting it with his groin area. Both actions knocked him back a step, and gave her valuable time to react. It wasn't much, but it was just enough for the maid to hike up her skirts and run. Her hand throbbed viciously from where she'd slugged the man (it wasn't the first time she'd hit someone) but Lynara ignored it, as she dashed frantically towards the familiar lane that would lead her back to the industrial part of Budapest. She could see the lanterns at the edges of her vision, could see the Apothecary shop in the distance; safety was within her grasp . . . and then she felt two harsh hands wrap around her middle and drag her back. The woman screamed in anguish as two more pairs of hands joined the first to hold her captive. She thrashed wildly, hoping that she could once more escape, but her attempts were in vain and she was thrown brutally to the ground and was immediately pinned down.

"You stupid bitch!" She could hear the first man cursing angrily, before she felt his hand connect with her face. It was hard, harder than any blow the Tavern Master had ever inflicted, and the woman cried out as her head reeled and her vision darkened around the edges. Still Lynara continued to struggle and fight, but she felt the two other plague rats take either of her arms into iron grips and the third straddle her from above. Several more blows fell on the woman as she continued to cry, and a crimson pool began to leak from both her bloodied mouth and a cut that had opened on her brow.

As she felt the man's hands rip the skirt of her dress, the woman closed her eyes tightly, knowing that she had reached her end. They would use her and then dump her broken body into the quay, and her life would be over. What she had always vowed she would never allow, was happening and she was helpless to stop it. Once more she was too weak to save herself and now she would pay the ultimate price. . .

The woman felt the man's hot breath fan out across her face and had bile rise in her throat . . . . But as the maid's senses grew overactive and her heart nearly beat out of her chest, she heard it. It was very unnoticeable, but the woman immediately opened her dark eyes to regard the heavens where the strange fluttering noise was coming from. Though the man's face was solely in her main line of sight, the space above him was clear for her view, and the sight that met her gaze made the woman sharply inhale. Time seemed to stop as she looked upon the creature that was flying down upon them, but in truth it was only seconds before a loud sound invaded the night.

It took Lynara a moment to realize it was a _snarl_ , but as soon as the woman registered the noise, the man who hovered above her was gone. The heavy weight of his body that had been so restricting now was completely lifted, and the barmaid watched with shocked eyes as he was lifted high into the air, bellowing in fright, by a flying demon.

It was larger than any man, with wings tipped in crimson that lashed out against the night sky and eyes that glowed an ethereal blue. Its skin was leathery in texture and a deep grayish blue, and its incredible jaws revealed the sharpest mouth of teeth that Lynara had ever seen. It was a bat . . . or something quite similar to it, but in that moment all the woman could see was a saving grace as those who had planned her demise were rendered defenseless.

As the creature held the screaming man aloft with one large clawed hand, the two below let go of their prize and tried to flee. But the monster was too fast. In what seemed to be the speed of light, the bat had landed on the ground before them and with its free hand it lashed out at both figures. The creature bared its teeth in a deafening growl the sound making the men's blood turn cold. And the men were crying out in agony as ripping sounds pervaded the air and the two that had tried to run fell to the ground dead. The beast had slashed and stabbed them with its claws, and Lynara could now see broad crevices across their chests where the creature's talons had embedded and torn their hearts out.

And as they fell lifeless, the otherworldly eyes of the predator turned back to the man that it still held in its free hand. In just seconds the tables had turned: where this man had held Lynara captive, he now hung by his throat with his mouth drawn into an alarmed 'o' of trepidation. Tears dripped down the sailor's face as he gasped for breath, wordlessly begging the creature to let him go. The bat made a deep noise in the back of its throat before it once more bared its great maw of teeth, this time in a wicked smile. It was enjoying his fear and taunted him with it as it snarled again. Never before had a beast looked or acted so maliciously. Then as its smile grew, the bat brought the man closer and clamped its giant jaws down upon his flesh. The man tried to scream as his life's blood spurted in an arc before splashing the nearby building, but no sound left him as the beast greedily drank him dry.

Lynara watched it all from where she still lay slumped upon the cobblestones, and in just a minute the beast threw the man's corpse away into the nearby water with a muted splash. Then, the bat turned its gaze to regard the woman. The maid met its gaze with fearful eyes, thinking that it would attack her next, but the monster's glowing eyes merely looked sad as they beheld her. For a long time it stood watching her from a distance, before it began to walk towards her on two feet. And as it did, it began to _change_ before her very eyes.

Slowly, the leathery skin began to shift into pale flesh, the massive devil's wings folded into a black cloak, and the monster features shrunk and settled into a handsome human face. As the woman watched she felt more tears fall from her chocolate eyes as she now looked upon the one she had run from. It would seem that the fates wished her to face fire tonight, in all forms. For there Dracula stood directly before her, his beautiful blue eyes studying her reaction to his transformation. He took in her tears and her disheveled appearance before a look of pure agony crossed his now pleasing face. Slowly the Count lowered himself to the ground in front of the woman, his actions showing that he had no desire to frighten her further. And with a single hand he gestured to her, bidding her to come to him instead of keeping her distance. He reached out for her with his essence and she could feel him as he gently beseeched her soul to come to his. The feeling was at first strange, but as he tenderly gazed upon her wretched state the woman found herself wanting to reach back.

"Come, little one. . . Do not fear me," he implored. "Everybody else fears me. . . But not _you._. . Not my Lynara . . . Not my mate."

The dark maid was still for a time as she felt her heartbeat return to a normal thrum, and her tears began to abate. She had believed herself doomed by the men who now laid lifeless, and yet here the Count was, having saved her again.

Gingerly, the woman shifted from her slouched position on the cobblestones, her face bloodied and her dress torn. For minutes she was unmoving, as she merely stared at the man she had come to rely upon, and the vampire in question held his breath. She could still run from him, she could flee as she had at the Ball and leave him once again. . . Or she could stay after having seen his true form. . . Which she choice she would make, he could not guess. . . But he knew he'd continue to follow her no matter what she did.

Lynara gave a shuddering sigh as the cold of the evening wrapped around her newly exposed skin, before she took action. Though her mind was far from easy, and the conflict remained, the woman knew what she needed to do and pushed back the doubt in her mind. She would deal with it, but for now there was only one thing that she was resigned to.

As Lynara met Dracula's gaze dead on, his eyes grew wider- for the dark orbs showed no fear. Then, the maid was wrapping her arms around him in an embrace, her head going to rest where his heart should have been beating. At first the contact surprised him, for at the Masque his storyteller had cringed from his lack of a heartbeat.

But his moment of surprise ended when he heard the woman whisper brokenly into him, "I could never fear you, Vladislaus . . . Not now or ever again."

"Oh Lynara." The vampire brought his cloak to shield her bared body from the elements, as he nuzzled into her hair. He had feared of losing her to the scum he had killed, and the relief of her wellbeing was like a rare wine. "My beautiful little storyteller . . . brave until the very end."

The woman began to cry again as the vampire held her to him tenderly, and though she didn't witness it firsthand, the Count had begun to shed several blood red tears of his own.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ This chapter was a feels fest for me. I swear I started crying several times and almost gave up. . . Gosh, I can't imagine how it must be for you guys. Sorry for the angst train! Though it was necessary and I can't be too sorry about it. XD

Sorry for any typos or grammatical errors. I only had time to do a quick edit this time. Fingers crossed it's readable. Hahah!

I apologize though for how dark this chapter was. I didn't mean to make anyone feel uncomfortable with the content, but this story is telling itself and I'm merely the emotionally imbalanced scribe. XD Hopefully I didn't break you all with my depressing angst and feels.

So, any predictions about what's gonna come next? Any thoughts on how or why Dracula and Lynara are soul mates? Drop me a review with your thoughts. ^^

Sadly I don't have time to do my normal thanking system because I'm posting this before running off to do some errands and other obligations. Lol But I shall name yall who have treated me so wonderfully with reviews!

 _ **Thank you:**_ **MercyShadow, Madam Silver, AnimeFan001, bloodyrose2014, Cloelius Princess, alexc1209,** and my dear Madame **Remember.**

I cannot thank you all enough for leaving me such lovely feedback and encouragement. I must admit that this chapter wouldn't be posted nearly this soon if it wasn't for the support and love I've received on last chapter. You are amazing readers and I love you guys. *hugs and passes out brownies*

Kay, see you guys next chapter!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Dancing into the Night: Part Thirteen**

* * *

The moon rose to its pinnacle in the sky as the midnight mists molded and grew even denser than before; all the while two figures (vampire and maid) held onto each other in blessed silence. For an unknown amount of time, Lynara had been crying into the folds of the Count's chest, and he had let her. After having had such a close call with the detestable sailors and the shock of all that had occurred before, the woman had had a breakdown of sorts. (Not that she could truly be blamed for the action, seeing as it had been quite a strange and taxing night.) And during her time of despondency, Dracula had held and comforted the girl, wordlessly soothing her shaken spirit with firm hands and arms that entrenched her tenderly. All the while, he gently licked the blood from her brow cautiously- cleaning her cut before pulling back with a heavy sigh that almost shuddered with delight. Though her blood was intoxicating to him, the vampire slowly retracted the beginnings of his fangs, and settled for placing soft kisses to the woman's forehead and hairline instead. Ignoring the primal part of himself, surprising the one he held- and quite reasonably so.

And slowly, bit by bit, the woman finally was able to regain herself. Though the scars of the plague rat's attack would surely live in her mind for many years to come, she knew that the worst of it was over. Besides having been beaten, frightened, and having her clothing ripped beyond repair, she had walked away from the encounter unscathed- and for that, if nothing else, she could be grateful.

So the barmaid's sobs turned into silent tears, and her tears faded into shaky breaths. Then, there was blessed calm and eyes that once more sought the world with sane curiosity and heart.

The woman who had been mostly oblivious to her surroundings, now realized that she was pressed flush against the Count, her body cradled in his lap, with the impossibly silky black cloak wrapped around them both. His hands were gloveless, and while one held the woman around her waist, the other was pressed firmly against her head where he gently stroked the curly locks at the nape of her neck. The vampire nuzzled into her hair in a relaxed gesture, though it was clear to the maid that he had been through a lot that evening as well. Though it was she who bore the physical markings of the evening (the dress that exposed most of her legs since having been destroyed by the rabid men and the already forming bruises on her arms and face).

But finally the woman raised a hand to rest at Dracula's nape- matching his own action- before breaking the silence.

"That's four times now that you've saved me."

"Hmm?" Though he was placid the question in his voice was clear, so Lynara explained her train of thought.

"You saved me from the Tavern Master's hand, then the brain fever that surely would have killed me . . . and then just now. . ."

For a long moment the vampire was still before commenting, "You have only mentioned three occasions, my dear."

"Yes, I suppose I have."

"What was the other?"

Lynara shook her wearied head where it rested against his chest, her brown eyes red-rimmed from her tears and the stress of what she had had to endure. "The first night you came into my life."

Though she couldn't see his face when she answered him, the young woman knew that he didn't understand her meaning. The hand at her neck gently traced the veins that ran beneath her dark flesh- both as a mindless action and a comforting mechanism. Though Lynara stopped his gesture when she finally pulled back so she was able to regard him fully.

"You saved me by opening my eyes," she said meeting his intelligent orbs with a look of bittersweet regret. "And at the same time you ended my life as I had known it . . . Since the beginning, deep down my senses were trying to warn me about you, and yet I fought them. . . I was unable to see what you were though the truth was always there for me."

"Lynara-"

"I was happy in my complacency," she continued without breaking. "And you took it all away the moment you requested my presence in the Red Chamber and asked for a story." Though she spoke plainly, her tone wasn't of an accusatory nature. Instead it held a resignation that was both liberating and peculiar. "It's only now that I realize you had a specific fable in mind. . . _Our_ story."

Dracula didn't reply as the woman studied the handsome plains of his face, though his expression held no objection to what she claimed. She might have been inclined to believe that this was due to him humoring her, but internally she knew better. He had promised her truth and thus far he had kept up his part of the bargain. So the woman forced the last reserves of her doubt away and let the question she had longed to ask rear its deft head from the pit of her subconscious.

"What did you see in me that made you care so much?" Her eyes beseeched him for answers as her shaking hands reached up to clutch the sides of his dress coat underneath the cloak they shared. "Why did you want _me?_ "

Dracula regarded the young woman with emotional blue eyes, before he gave her a soft little smile and raised a forefinger to caress her paled brown cheek.

"The first night I entered your Tavern I was smitten by you," he whispered tenderly. "Not by your outward appearance or the way you carried yourself, but the aura that came from you. . . It was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and I knew immediately that I had to claim you for myself."

Lynara's face crinkled painfully. "I-I . . . I was just another conquest to you?"

"At first," he admitted without shame. "But after our first dalliance I realized that you were different in all aspects . . . and I found that my interest wasn't so _precise_. Your spirit, the way you saw the world around you, even your physical features: they became beautiful too. . . You have been a mystery to me since the beginning, little storyteller- and for one such as myself that is no small task."

"But why?"

He paused for a brief second. "The particulars of the matter? I cannot say."

"Then how can you be sure that we are . . . that we are-"

"Soul mates," he offered.

". . . Yes . . . How can you be so absolute when you have no true idea what our connection was born from?"

The vampire sighed gently before he leaned in closer and pressed his hand directly to the hollow of her chest. Beneath his palm her heartbeat pulsed and the vampire tipped his head down toward it meaningfully.

"I have danced with death for centuries, Lynara . . . So to have such a magnificent taste of life. . . I am _positive_."

" . . . You see life and love as soul based elements?"

"I do." Then he added, "Though when you ran from me tonight, I must admit I wasn't completely accurate in my observation."

Lynara looked up at him, confused. "What observation?"

"When I claimed to know that love exists," he elaborated softly, his blue eyes turning warm despite his frozen flesh. "I was ignorant of such a feeling before I found you, my dear. But now that I've experienced it myself, I know that love is a true concept."

"And you . . . you love _me_?" The maid looked up at him, as he leaned forward to let his nose graze hers affectionately, and his hand at the woman's waist tightened slightly.

"Yes, little Lynara. I would build my world around you and the family we could create. My undead heart belongs to you, my darling . . . But the question is: will _you_ give your heart to one such as I?"

The dark maid felt her heart clench painfully as the glacier blue eyes bored into her. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to say yes to him. . . But she was still held back by the rational part of her mind. She cared for him, loved him even . . . and yet he was still a nightmares creature. He was damned and was forced to live off of the blood of humans to survive. Though Lynara now knew that he wouldn't drink from her personally, who was to say he would hold back from others . . . people she knew, people who had lives and dreams just as she did. . . The barmaid had been raised to know right from wrong, but now the lines had dulled until they were no longer black and white. Now all that remained was a hateful gray that matched her tattered ball gown, and the woman found that she could not give him a direct answer.

"You have revealed much to me tonight," she said after sometime of quiet contemplation. "Most of which has questioned my very views on my morals and beliefs. . . So I must confess I am unable to tell you one way or the other what I am able or willing to give. . ."

For a moment Lynara felt her resolve falter- and the beginnings of a _yes_ forming on her tongue- but she pushed it back firmly and continued as she reached up to cup the noble's jaw with her hand. For the woman the action was completely intimate and foreign (seeing as Dracula had always been the one to initiate touches and physical contact) but she did so now without hesitation and was utterly sincere.

"Will you give me time to think on what you have offered," she asked candidly, her eyes hopeful despite the weight that bared down on her ambivalent mind. "May I have a few days to myself to think upon the future?"

Dracula's expression became solemn, bordering on woeful as he looked upon the woman's face. He wanted nothing more than for her to be at his side now and forever- but the vampire nodded his raven head once in acceptance.

"If time is the only gift you would ask of me, then I shall grant it willingly."

The woman searched his eyes and found that he meant what he said. "Thank you, Vladislaus."

The maid once more wrapped her arms around him in an embrace as her mind raced with the different scenarios that the future could hold. Though she still wanted to get lost in the comforting presence that the Count gave her, she knew that she would not be able to figure out her own personal truth with him there. This was the only way to make up her mind, and she would not back down from it.

Gently Dracula placed a kiss to the woman's brow, cradling her to him as before, before he slowly stood from the ground with her held tenderly in his arms. Though she was not small in size, he carried her effortlessly before his body once more shifted into the larger form of a bat. For a moment the creature studied Lynara- giving her the chance to object to him holding her- and when she showed no fear and made no argument, he slowly unfurled his wings and lifted up into the early morning sky.

They flew elegantly over the countless rooftops of Budapest, gliding on the silent winds, before landing several minutes later in front of the Tavern lane. Though there were still several hours to sunrise, the vampire was ready to take his leave, after setting the woman down softly to the cobblestones once more. Dracula gestured with his monstrous head to the Tavern door, biding her to enter while he watched- but Lynara didn't heed him. Instead, she once more drew back into the shadow of the massive wings, and reached up to place a chaste kiss to the bat's face- surprising the vampire to no end.

"I love you, Vladislaus," she said quietly, giving him a bittersweet smile. "And I will see you soon."

Dracula's large glowing eyes visibly softened before he reached out a clawed forefinger and gently traced her cheek.

" _ **Be safe, beautiful storyteller. Lovely Lynara . . . Until we meet again."**_

Lynara inclined her head to him, as she had done at the Masque Ball, a sign of both respect and care before she moved away from him and turned to enter the Tavern. And though she didn't look back, the woman could hear the smooth flapping of the giant wings as the Count rose in the Hallow's Eve air and flew out of sight- as the barmaid once more entered the Tavern with a fluttering and conflicted heart.

* * *

The Tavern was a place that never truly slept. Between the late evening customers and the maids and TM the establishment always had someone up and about- no matter how belated the hour. So when Lynara pushed the front door closed behind her, and turned her dark eyes to take in the familiar main floor of the bar, she was visibly startled. For a long moment she stared at her surroundings- fighting to focus her gaze in the dim light of the fire place- as she was met with complete _silence_.

Sure there were times when the main fire was the only light in the Tavern, but for it to be so quiet was something truly unusual indeed.

Lynara quickly moved further into the bar and squinted her eyes to see clearer . . . and it was then that the strange objects on the floor caught her attention.

At first it seemed to the girl as if someone had littered the floor with small pools of water, sacks of cloth, and strangely shaped pieces of wood . . . But as her senses flared into recognition, the woman drew back in absolute horror.

For the things scattered across the Tavern floor were not cloth . . . but human _bodies._ Or rather, pieces of them. Arms, legs, torsos, and hands were scattered amidst dresses and tunics (the sacks of cloth Lynara had believed to be so innocent upon first look). . . But it was the rounded shapes on the bar counter that made the woman open her mouth in broken gasps and let a sharp wail of despair rise in her throat.

The pile was made up of _human heads_ , all of which Lynara knew at a glance.

The rotund Tavern Master, his gray haired wife, the achingly beautiful Claudria, Papa Petrego, two other regular customer, and the beloved Lexya: with their disembodied heads on a grotesque display for the bewildered woman to see.

The substance that had appeared to be water, now was made clear as pools of _blood_.

Lynara's whole body shook viciously as absolute fear and grief overtook her, the dear face of her red-headed sister making her sob violently. Just several hours ago they had been laughing and discussing Happily Ever Afters. They had another reading lesion planned for tomorrow- Lexya had been an apt learner and was so full of promise. . . And Papa Petrego. He had loved ones waiting for him to return home after a night ale. . . But he would never return. There would never be another reading lesson, no more bearded smiles and fatherly hugs, no more laughter and friendship. . .

Lynara's hands reached up to her beaded head and cried as her world crashed around her. This wasn't real. . . _Couldn't_ be real . . . until a purring voice broke the unbearable silence making the young maid's heart drop to the soles of her feet.

"Welcome back, _little whore_."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ I believe that that is the worst cliffhanger yet. XD (Sorry guys! But sooo much is happening! It's extremely hard to find places to stop without killing myself off. Lol)

So what do we all think of the new chapter? Good, bad? Frustrating as heck? Hahahah! Please drop a review and let me know what you guys have on your minds. *wiggles eyebrows*

 _ **Special thanks to the following for reviewing:**_

 **Fanficqueen306:** Oh my goodness! You read it all in one day? That's wonderful! :D I'm so glad you're enjoying it, my dear!

 **AnimeFan001:** I love teasing you guys! Hahaha! Though I'm sorry for making you cry! Hang in there!

 **Aservis Roturier:** My dear, there is no such thing as being late to this Fete. *laughs and welcomes with brownies* But I must say I'm rightly flattered by your attention to this story. For you to enjoy it without being a huge fan of Van Helsing (and with my somewhat Mary Sue-ish set up) I'm truly honored. Your faith in my work and my abilities is very sweet. And no worries, I have no intention of leaving this story unfinished. I have too much emotionally invested in this one. Hope you have fun with the newest chapter, dear.

 **ImperfectButterfly21:** Thank you, my dear! I'm so happy that you love Lynara and Dracula together and that you were able to read it so thoroughly. ^^

 **bloodyrose2014:** I'm glad Dracula showed up in time too, though it was truly a close call. Poor Lynara. And thank you! I shall most definitely keep it up!

 **alexc1209:** Hahahah, have you figured it out, dearie? *winks* And that is the question of the evening. How are they soul mates when Dracula has no soul? Lol Hahahah, no worries I promise it will be explained in detail soon enough. And I'm glad you are enjoying the story so much! Keep them tissues handy, it's just gonna get more intense from here on out!

 **Madam Silver:** I'm against rape too, my dear. Though no worries, Dracula wouldn't let Lynara be hurt in such a way. ^^

 **Countess:** Sorry for worrying you with the pre-rape scene. I apparently startled several people. *hands tissue and smiles* Hang in there!

 **Remember:** Oh my dear Madame Remember, I swear I always have the biggest of grins on my face when I see your name. Goodness, you always leave me such inspiring and lovely comments, not to mention that you are a fantastic writer yourself. I've recently gotten quite entrenched in _Ink on a Page_ (I really must go back and review the chapters I've read. But I've been eating them up so fast, I've been hardly able to articulate properly XD). Gosh, this story is getting so intense, and it's only gonna become more so in future chapters. Hahaha, I just hope I can keep Vladislaus in-character through it all. lol I felt like I was shaking a bit with this chapter, but oh wells! I'm so glad that my fluffy/angsty moment at the end of last chapter was so feelsy for you! That's a huge compliment coming from you, seeing as all your work makes me giggle or sob like a completely fool. *winks* Love you, my dear. Hope you enjoy the newest chapter! Thank you for always being the highlight of my week. *hugs*

Kay guys! See you all next chapter! ^^

 _ **~Lyn**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Dancing into the Night: Part Fourteen**

* * *

Aleera was a vampiress with many outstanding attributes: beauty, a lethal mind, and heightened senses. The only things she had ever truly lacked were patience and the ability to control her temper. But tonight, the red haired woman could truly say that she had put her limits to the test. Though it had only been two days since the Count had forced her to apologize to the tavern slut, Aleera's planning had been rather delicate in nature. She had been unable to hold out on her retribution as long as she had thought, but that didn't mean she wouldn't relish in every second of it when the time came.

She had known of the Counts extended invitation to the human for his All Hallows Masque, and had worked fluidly around that information. She had taken her leave from Vlad as the night had progressed- knowing he would not notice her absence- and made her way to the filthy mortal tavern. There she had waited in the shadows of the alleyway until the Count's human had left in a carriage fit for a queen. The finery that Aleera had seen the whore wearing had almost been enough to make her snap and kill the brat where she stood . . . but at the last second she had reigned herself in and slunk silently into the crowded tavern instead. And as the human had left, the vampire had entered and the festivities had begun.

Aleera had always prided herself on her gifts in the arts, but this time she had truly outdone herself. The brush strokes had been the rivers of blood as she tore the screeching swine's throats to silence them. The background touches the limbs and torsos spread around the canvas. And for her signature she had placed the heads upon the bar counter in a most beautiful display.

As she drank her fill from what remained of the red haired tavern girl, the vampire nearly burst with the feeling of achievement. Not an inch of the premises had stayed untouched by her red paintbrush and the result was truly awe-inspiring. It was a shame that her Master would never see it. For it was he who had first sparked this love of _art_ and the pictures it could create; her mate that had first opened her eyes to all the possibilities. The ample feeling of a piggy's flesh as she bit down and the sensual gurgle of their blood as it rushed freely into her mouth and caressed her tongue. It was all so scrumptious and unbiased. Each human tasted differently than the rest, and each life she consumed left its imprint upon her conscious. And with all the new flashes and pieces of memory, for a short while the vampire forgot about her need for revenge and merely took pleasure in her task. The way the human's bodies slumped in her arms as she lulled them into the eternal sleep was almost endearing, and the ferocity that some tried to fight her or flee with was nothing short of humorous. This was also another reason that she hated the meat bags that flaunted their existence before her ancient eyes.

They mocked her with every breath and word, teasing her senses with thoughts of what had been and what would be. The humans forever changed and she never would change again. She would never feel the warmth of the sunrise on her skin, or bask in the presence of her grandchildren as they ran about her feet. And she would never feel her heart beat within her breast ever again.

It was true before the tavern whore had invaded her life, Aleera hadn't thought much upon these losses. With Vlad at her side and her sired sisters she had never felt lonely, or deprived of anything in manners of obsession or habit. But when the homewrecker had splashed her hateful gray upon their painting, the once vibrant red had begun to fade, and Aleera would not suffer such a thing to happen without a challenge. So she had figured out the perfect retribution to lay at the ugly piggy's feet, and Vlad would be none the wiser.

It was true that she would be the first one the Count would suspect. But when all of the evidence pointed to the contrary (a petty and unsavory act of _human_ arson), his little mortal dalliance would be but a disgusting memory. Things would return to the way they always had been, and Vlad would give his attention to those who truly loved him. His sirelings, his hell-bound mates, his _brides._

Aleera laughed quietly to herself as she sat at one of the corner tables of the bar, and once more thought of her genius. Though it was a rather simple plan, it was working brilliantly so far.

The Tavern was naturally located downwind of the quay, meaning the sea breezes that blew in would be worthless in sighting a problem. The Count, if he happened to come by, would be unable to smell all the blood from outside the establishment. And if he should come in, Aleera would willingly take the blame. After all her Master had commanded her to leave his whore alone. He had never mentioned any of the people the mortal scum lived or served with. But if her Master didn't enter, she would have free reign to do as she saw fit.

But first, a game of cat and mouse was in order- starting with the slummy pigs on the docks. Aleera had hired them earlier that day with more gold pieces than they had ever collectively seen, and given them the job of a lifetime. Gold for bedding the girl. She had given the brutes a description of the slut as well as the carriage that she would be riding in, and if all went as planned the whore would already be damaged upon entering her beloved Tavern. And once she was within Aleera's sights the vampire would enjoy every moment of their reunion, with the disgusting girl's blood on her lips and screams filling her eager ears.

* * *

Lynara couldn't breathe. There was something caught in the center of her throat, and try as she might she could not bring her lungs to work properly. Gasping the young woman fell to her knees as the shock fully set in, and the trauma of what had happened slowly took its toll on her already wearied mind and body. Large tears unhurriedly crept from her chocolate eyes as she looked upon her desecrated home and the corpses of those she had cared for. And as she did so, the young woman felt her soul cry out in torment. There was _so much_ blood and the smell of death was rank throughout the stilled air, as if the grim reaper was still waiting to claim more. Though Lynara didn't care if he did . . . he had already taken everything else.

The dark maid continued to fight for breath and finally it came; in the form of a great gut wrenching wail that made her entire body shake as she cried to the heavens. But even the scream could not help the pain that had possessed her. It was too much, too soon, _too terrible_ to comprehend. The woman sobbed achingly as she raised her hands to her eyes and scrubbed at them, trying to block the images of the severed heads and lakes of blood. But it stayed behind her eyelids, taunting the girl until she thought she would surely go mad with grief. . . And that was when the noise erupted in the silent Tavern hall, making the bar maid shudder uncontrollably. Someone was _laughing_ and it was by far the coldest, scariest sound that Lynara had ever heard. More detached than the men who had tried to rape her; more depraved than her uncle had been as he had beaten her aunt in a drunken stupor. It was the voice piece of the devil and so fittingly came in the fashion of a woman.

Lynara let her wide, despairing eyes lift and swivel anxiously around the room as she fought to locate the speaker. In her misery she hadn't realized that she wasn't _alone,_ but now as the jovial giggle fully entered her hearing the young woman felt what was left of her heart plummet down to the soles of her feet.

"Welcome back, _little whore_ ," rang the velvety voice as the laughter died down. "I've been expecting you."

Lynara's hands naturally turned into fists at her sides as she continued to fight to see where the speaker was. And after another moment of inspection, she caught sight of the beautifully draped figure lounged across one of the tables that hadn't been overturned. The first thing that caught the maid's eye was the shining red orbs that seemed to glow in the shadows, taking in her every move with the intensity of a predator watching its prey. But the gratified smile that ranged across the pouty pink lips and showed the horrifically extended fangs was the thing that held Lynara's attention. In the maid's mind she knew what was happening, but her legs refused to abide her as she desperately struggled to stand from the gore-drenched floor. And as the girl scrambled to regain her legs and run, the she-demon once more laughed. From the tone of it, one might have thought that she was enjoying a joke about the weather, which made it all the more terrifying. The creature was relaxed as she coyly stared at the almost hysterical girl on the floor. Lynara was exactly where she wanted her, and they both knew it.

"I must say that you've given me more of a show than I had hoped for," the vampiress said as she silently slid from the tabletop and began to stalk towards Lynara. "You have shed tears for all of your friend's bodies, and I haven't even touched you."

Though Aleera freely mentioned her tears, Lynara had surprisingly stopped crying as she brushed her tattered sleeve rapidly against her blurry eyes- her new emotion one of panic. The young woman continued to scramble away and finally wrenched herself from the crimson-coated floor. Then before her mind could truly register what she was doing, the lass had rushed back to the Tavern door screaming for help, a single name rising to her lips as her hand reached out for the handle.

"Vladislaus! VLADISLAUS! PLEASE-"

But her plea was in vain as she felt something hard make contact with the back of her head (one of the many arms that had been severed fell directly to her side as it bounced off her), and she slumped against the door. The maid's head swam as the hit began to take its toll, but she quickly swung open the door and immediately rushed out. But before her first foot could so much as settle on the doorstep, she was being dragged back into the shadows by a pair of iron hands and the door was swung shut.

"Where do you think you're going, little whore," Aleera whispered in her ear, making the girl flail against her grip helplessly. "You can only go when I say you can go. And I say you can go when you're _dead_."

Lynara continued to struggle against Aleera's grip as the she-demon spun the girl around to face her and caught her firmly around the throat. The contact was strong enough to keep her in check, but not enough to completely cut off her air supply, though Lynara knew that such a thoughtful gesture would end as soon as Aleera wished for it to.

"W-Why?" The bar maid gagged as she dangled helplessly from the vampires firm grip, letting her calloused hands come to rest on Aleera's unblemished ones. "W-Why have you d-done this?"

Aleera's ancient green eyes studied Lynara's darker face with disgust. "How dare you question _me!_ When it was you who started this!"

Lynara shook her head as she fought to form more words around the impossibly strong hand. "I d-didn't-"

Aleera's hand tightened and the maid's words cut off in a wheezing gasp. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK, WHORE! YOU LOST THE RIGHT WHEN YOU TRIED TO STEAL MY _**MATE**_ WITH BEGUILING LIES!"

Lynara's eyes grew even wider as new tears rose in her deep brown eyes, but no words were able to escape past the vampire's pressure to her windpipe. Though the hurt and recognition shone clearly on her paled brown face.

For a long minute the two females were both silent, before Aleera's strange smile once more grew on her beautiful face. The twinkling in her unearthly eyes was altogether fearsome and it easily displayed her madness for the barmaid to see. Though when the she-demon spoke again, her voice was once more bright and airy.

"What he saw in you I will never know, girl. But whatever it was, your evil will no longer haunt my Master."

Aleera carelessly dragged Lynara across the entryway of the Tavern back towards the counter where the gruesome decapitated heads lay as if waiting. In only a handful of steps the two were standing before the far end of the wooden bar. Then Aleera was letting her free hand reach for something that had been left beside the Tavern Master's bloated, plum-tinted face. With her vision blackening around the corners, Lynara had to fight to focus on the item that the vampire held delicately in her poised fingers, but when she was able to see it clearly she shook her head in despair. Aleera, who had been watching the girl's face and enjoying all the hints of her inner turmoil, smiled even wider than before. Never had a single match openly caused so much fear, nor would it again.

"I figured tonight you and I could even it all out- the thing you love most in honor of what you _tried_ to take."

"P-Please. . . N-No!"

Aleera's canines extended playfully, as she flicked the match to life and meaningfully dropped it on the bar. At first the flame sputtered, as if it might go out, before it slowly began to glow and rise in magnitude. Orange and red flames spread viciously across the counter setting the heads alight before it began to move even further down the line. Lynara watched it with broken eyes as the inferno snapped out, following a well laid trail to the floor and the strewn bodies.

Aleera watched the young woman's despair and internally felt the tickling of triumph in the back of her mind. Though she wasn't finished yet.

"It's amazing how quickly alcohol incinerates isn't it?" She questioned leaned in to nuzzle the shaking girl with her nose, taunting her gleefully. "Just a touch of fire and it burns _red hot._ I couldn't design a better way to mark my _success,_ " As the last word fell from her lips Aleera grabbed Lynara's right arm with her free hand and smashed it against the nearest bottle of wine, both cutting her skin and dousing it in the flammable liquid instantaneously. Lynara whimpered and fought against her grip, as the vampire placed a kiss to her cheek and deliberately moved her arm to rest above the now flaming Tavern Master's head. Then with a sadistic giggle the red haired demon slammed the girls forearm into the fire.

For a millisecond of time the world seemed to stop as Lynara watched the flames cascade over her open flesh. Then she was enveloped in utter pain. Lynara screamed breathlessly as the agony of the burn raged through her and her vision turned fiery white. It hurt so much! So violent and unrelenting! Lynara writhed violently as her entire arm caught fire and lashed out with her feet to try and get away from both the counter and the vampire, but to no avail. And all the while Aleera watched the display with a pleased expression and a heart as cold as ice.

"Does it hurt, little whore?" She asked pleasantly over the girl's screams of anguish. "I can only assume that it does."

" _P-Please!"_ Lynara choked out, but Aleera was already moving her arm from the counter and plunging it to another part of the surface. Lynara expected more flames, but was once more surprised as the heat of her arm was encased with sloshing cold. The contrast was almost as alarming as the fire had been, but it was less harmful.

Aleera watched as the fire sputtered and died out where the girl's flesh had caught fire, as she dumped it unceremoniously into the bucket of water she had had on hand. The skin was bleeding and charred beyond repair, just as she had hoped. It was the perfect touch to the girl's demise.

As the vampiress looked up from the barmaid's ravaged arm and saw the girl's shocked expression, the vampire happily elaborated.

"I can't have you catching fire all the way, _my dear_." Her voice was deadly sugarcoated. "I just wanted to sign my work, before we part. . . But your screams are so beautiful, I'm half tempted to have your other arm match!"

Lynara felt her burnt arm go numb as the cold began to have an effect, but the girl knew that should her shock once more fade and the water removed from her injuries that she would be in agony again.

"I-I didn't k-know. . ."

Aleera lifted a perfect eyebrow as the girl rasped. "Didn't know what?"

Aleera let her grip loosen enough for the barmaid to talk. "I d-didn't know h-he was . . . t-that the C-Count was. . ."

"You didn't know that he belonged to me?" The vampire sneered. "How inconvenient for you."

"I s-swear-"

"Your promises mean _nothing_ to me!" Aleera fumed. "You took him away! You made him forget his brides! His undead life with us and our goal!" The livid she-demon pulled the girl from the bucket of water as her eyes glowed startling red and transformed into a brilliant light blue. "You made him forget about the monster and our children! YOU MADE HIM FORGET _**EVERYTHING**_ _!"_

As Aleera's voice rose up in a furious snarl, the Tavern was burned with the ever-growing flames that she had set free. Patiently it advanced and as the seconds ticked by the once inviting bar was turned into an unrecognizable inferno of hate. The temperature rose to an almost unbearable height as the air was permeated with suffocating smoke and the rancid fumes of burning corpses. Though it was all lost upon the vampire and her prey. All they could see was each other and the ultimate conclusion that was rapidly approaching on the horseman's heels. There was death everywhere and the tension was poignant in the blazing Tavern, as Lynara looked into the eyes of the one who would take her life. The Count wouldn't be swooping in to save her . . . There was no escape that would aid her now. Lynara had always been one to try and think logically, and now as she did so the girl knew that she had no hope. Not when she had no way to fight back, and lacked the presence of anyone able to assist her in fleeing. She was going to die here with those she had loved and known, in a home that was being destroyed before her very eyes. She had always hoped that one day she would be able to leave this place and make a better start for herself somewhere else . . . but the barmaid had never imagined that it would end like this. Never like _this_.

"D-Do it," Lynara whispered with unfeeling eyes that stared at her murderer.

For the first time that evening Aleera's grin broke and her expression grew confused. "What was that, little whore?"

" _Do_ it," the barmaid repeated in a hoarse rasp. "Stop . . . playing with me . . . and finish it."

Aleera's glowing blue eyes crinkled angrily around the corners. "Your act is pointless. Pretending to be brave will not save you."

"I know," Lynara spat.

"Beg for your life and I might consider it," Aleera countered derisively.

Lynara met the she-demon's eyes without hesitation as Aleera's powerful fingers drew her even closer. "W-What good . . . would it do me to plead with you. . . It will make . . . no difference. . . Not when we . . . love the same . . . man."

"HE IS NO MAN!" Aleera growled as her mouth extended to reveal razor sharp fangs. "HE IS A VAMPIRE! HE NEVER _**LOVED**_ YOU! AND HE _**WILL NOT**_ WEEP OVER YOUR ASHES!" The vampiress' face shone with absolute hate as she lowered her canines down to the girl's throat, sliding her hand just enough for her to have room to penetrate the skin. "NO ONE WILL MISS YOU, LITTLE WHORE BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL _**DEAD**_ _!"_

Lynara closed her eyes tightly as she felt a burst of cold breath against her neck, and said a quiet prayer. . . Before she heard the inhuman hissing and felt Aleera's teeth sink deep into her flesh. The girl shook at the painful ripping behind the gesture, but still refused to open her eyes. She didn't want her last moments on this earth to be ones of despair, so Lynara let her senses numb and began to tell herself a story. And she didn't stop, even as she felt her body begin weaken as it was drained of life.

 _Once upon a time. . ._

 _Once upon a time . . . there was a barmaid who fell in love with a vampire. . . Every night he would come and visit her, asking for a story. . . . and every night she loved him more. . . At first she didn't realize it, or accept it. . . But deep down she always knew. . . Knew that he was worth it. . . Though she also knew that he would never be hers to keep . . ._

Lynara could hear her heartbeat thudding painfully in her ears as the world seemed to become as thick as honey. She was dying . . . and the dark maid of the Tavern gently relaxed into it. The Dark Maid of the Tavern let herself slink into oblivion and the misty embrace of repose- just as she was dropped to the floor and an earth-shattering scream erupted into the bronze and smoky air.

* * *

Aleera moaned as Lynara's blood gushed into her mouth, nearly choking as she greedily drank it down. And though she had been nosferatu for over a hundred years, in that moment the vampiress was reverted back to a newborn state as all of her instincts distinctly abandoned her. It was all she could do not to laugh as she triumphantly sucked the ruby life source from her enemy.

Over her extended lifespan as an immortal, Aleera had tasted many different types of blood and found things that she preferred or disliked. . . But never in all her years had the vampiress tried anything as intoxicating as the liquid that currently slid down her throat. It was so light and frothy, like a balmy summer breeze after a particularly cold winter. The blood seemed to have a life of its own as it flowed throughout the vampire's entire body. But it was the effect after it's delegation that made Aleera fall into the arms of ecstasy. Wherever the crimson liquid seemed to flow within her, Aleera's frozen body seemed to grow _warm._ It was true that whenever a vampire consumed the life of another, they were granted a brief warmth due to the copious amounts of blood that fought to connect with their undead body. But this was different. It was not fleeting, nor small in effect. It was nothing short of engrossing as the female vampire drank faster, desperate to keep this new feeling of hot flesh and singing senses. With each gulp Aleera found herself more blissful, jubilant- and her skin temperature easily rose well past anything it had been since her second birth. The blood wasn't just feeding her. . . It was _alive._ Had a mind of its own, and the she-demon fought to understand it. There was something so enriching about this whore's blood. . . So singular and beautiful and strange. . .

And that was when she felt it: subtle at first but instantly swelling in intensity. _There_. . . in the back of her consciousness the vampire sensed another heartbeat pulsating in the burning Tavern. Aleera instantly was on edge, though never stopped drinking from the whore that was now hanging limply from her arms. She had purposefully tortured and killed everyone within the bar, and from the way she had strewn their bodies to and fro, it was quite impossible for one of them to have survived. So whose heartbeat pounded so loudly in the crackling flames?

After another moment of speculation, Aleera was no closer to understanding where the second heartbeat was coming from. . . Until the first shot of agony hit her like a cacophony of ruination. It moved throughout her entire being, making her yank away from the whore's throat with an unbridled scream of both pain and horror. Her vision blurred as she dropped the girl and backed away in a state of dread, her violently shaking hands rising to her heart shaped face before clenching at the hollow of her chest. Her once more green eyes became wide with tears as more of the pain hit her in a continual rhythm, and let her gaze fall to the now unconscious Lynara who lay in a pool of blood and gore as the fire raged around them.

"W-What have you done to me," Aleera cried as she clutched at her chest. "Human . . . what . . . what have you done-?"

But there was no answer.

Aleera sobbed pitifully as she dropped unceremoniously to her knees, staining her pink gown with the inescapable red as the second heartbeat in the room deafened her. . . But not only did each beat ring out in her ears, it was also followed with the rising agony that now spread rampantly through her undead body like a virus. With each pulsation Aleera was forced to bear pain worse than any she could have imagined. And it was as it reached a critical point that understanding came to the she-demon who was now laying alongside the human girl she had meant to kill.

The second heartbeat . . . it wasn't coming from one of the humans she had ripped apart, nor from a newcomer. . . It was coming from _her._ Her undead heart was once more beating, and with each palpitation it was killing her. Her immortal body was _dying_ , as her organs once more began to function after years of silence. But the work they now fought to resume was doomed. Her body could not sustain her any longer and Aleera was well aware of it, as she writhed painfully and gasped as she once more grew cold. The girl had somehow poisoned her . . . it was the only explanation. . . But even that made no sense. What poison could effectively kill a nosferatu?

Aleera screeched angrily as the truth hit her. She had been beaten by a meat sack! A worthless whore that had effectively taken everything from her! First Vlad and her respect . . . and now her life with the strange blood.

Aleera felt the pain in her chest dull as her heartbeats became softer and slower- but she was now too weak to rise from the floor. The vampire had failed and her life was ending.

"I don't want to go," she whimpered to the fire that crackled in the now smoke-lace air. "I don't want to die . . ."

With misty light green eyes Aleera looked upon the world as she had so long ago- with the sight of a mortal- and took a long shuddering breath as her heart crumbled to dust within her chest and her hundred years of immortality came to an end.

"Master. . . I'm sorry. . . I'm so sorry. . ."

With a labored exhale Aleera saw no more, and the two women lay side by side as the Tavern burnt around them and the sun began to rise, leaving All Hallows Eve a distant and grim memory.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_

Hey guys! It has seriously been forever since I updated! Sorry about that! ^^; Sadly between quitting my current job, family drama, and a terrible case of writer's block I've been unable to give this story my attention. But after a lot of struggling and self-delving, I finally was able to fight through and write this. I sadly had a very hard time getting it all down, but hopefully it is still a chapter you all can enjoy and understand. After starting and deleting the beginning 6 times, I finally just had to go with it and try my best. Please forgive any typos, grammatical errors, or parts of the text that don't flow. Lol I did my absolute best at this point.

I sadly have to run so I don't have time to thank everyone in great detail, but I must tell you guys that you're attention for this story has truly made a huge impact on my life and I am grateful. You are all amazing!

Special thanks to:

 **UntiedHeartbeat** , **Fanficqueen306** **,** and **Forbidden Moons** (Welcome aboard my newest readers/reviewers! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!)

 **alexc1209,** **Aservis Roturier** **,** **bloodyrose2014,** **AnimeFan001, Cloelius Princess** **,** **Madam Silver,** **The Auburn Girl** **,** and Madame **Remember**. ^^ (I wish I had time to thank you all personally, but sadly I'm running ragged. Please know how much your reviews made my day, lovelies! Thank you!)

I hope to update soon! I know I left yall hanging again. Love ya! See you guys next chapter!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Dancing into the Night: Part Fifteen**

* * *

It was almost dawn and though the sun had already begun to rise in the plum colored sky, it was far from the greatest source of illumination. For within the depths of Budapest, only a mile or so from the harbor, a building had been set alight and the hellish glow of the flames showed no signs of being quelled. The fire seemed to have a mind of its own as it crackled and writhed in a gay display, though as of yet, there was no one awake to view its devastating manifestation. . . Save for the single solitary figure that stood outside the inferno and looked upon it emotionlessly. For a breath the cloaked passerby was still, studying the flaming structure with calculating sea-green eyes, before he raised his hands up to observe the item he had brought with him. Within his calloused palms was grasped a sack cloth, almost long enough to cover the man completely, stained with the marks of time and heavens knew what else. Though currently the figure was ignorant to such petty details as this and only focused on the material of the fabric. It was unquestionably compact, heavy- and exactly what he needed.

Without another thought, the man wrapped the cloth fully around himself before he strode purposefully towards the nearest window of the burning building. And as he drew closer, he let his rapt gaze take in the length of the destruction. Though the man had initially expected the sight of glass to meet his view, he was instead greeted by an empty and scorching windowpane. Apparently with the heat of the fire, the windows had shattered, leaving a place for the red and orange coils to reach up for the still dark sky. A slight Godsend to the figure who now looked upon the dancing element with well masked apprehension. He would have had to break the glass first if it had been there, but his way was unmarred and several seconds of precious time saved.

Carefully the man judged the position of the twisting flames, steadied his breath, and in one bound, leapt through the opening into the bowels of the blaze. The red lashed out viciously at his flying form, trying to thwart his entrance, but due to the sack-cloth wrapped tightly around his body, the man remained ultimately unscathed. And he was able to roll rather easily upon hitting the floor, lessening his impact a considerable amount. Then he shot up from the sizzling floorboards and let a hand come up to rest protectively over his mouth and nose.

The air was permeated with the thickest of smoke, making it nearly impossible to see, and even more so to breathe. But somehow he managed, forcing his sea-green eyes to focus past the pain and take in his surroundings. Everywhere he looked there was blinding, yet diluted light. But he disregarded it and kept his silent search in check.

For a moment it seemed like his bravery would be in vain. That his efforts would be too late . . . But then as his eyes began to water and the sweltering temperature became almost unbearable, he spotted what he was looking for. It was only several yards to his left.

Cautiously, the man judged the pathway between himself and his goal before he diligently began to pick his way towards it. He would have moved quickly if it had been at all possible. But the floor, having been burned, was unsound and with too much pressure or movement would collapse and drag him down to a fiery death. So he paced himself, coughing deeply as the rancid fumes of the fire and what seemed to be corpses filled his unwilling nostrils. With every step he drew closer and the floor creaked louder. But after another painstaking minute of this, his patience was rewarded.

Slowly, the man leaned down, the bottom of his garments trailing across the stilled forms of two women. They laid side by side, one with hair as red as the flames that sought to destroy them, and the other with curls the color of obsidian. He eyed the fairer of the two for a brief moment with a wary gaze, before he let several of his fingers slide down to rest upon the darker woman's neck.

For a breath he felt nothing. No pulse, no breath. . . But then as he was about to give up, he felt the softest pounding against his fingertips. Her heart _was_ beating. She was still alive! But only just.

The man quickly removed his fingers and placed both of his hands underneath the lasses' sedentary form. It took him a second to find his grip, before he lifted her up and inelegantly slung her over his shoulder. Though he did this without preamble, his body immediately began to groan in protest. He was muscular and well-toned, but the woman weighed quite a bit more than he had anticipated.

With an almost imperceptible grunt, he shifted the limp woman and let his hands take a better command of his burden. Then with a final glance at the obviously dead she-demon, the man began his tremulous trek back the way he had come. With each step his knees threatened to buckle and the floor creaked in warning, but he fought his fatigue and worry and only concentrated on his task and what would be at stake if he failed.

The floorboards splintered deafeningly at his feet as the scorching fires grew to colossal heights. But he never faltered. His only view was that of the window that he had come through and the first light of the forthcoming dawn. The first glimpse of the sun gave him new reserves of strength that he hadn't known existed within him, and his doubts melted into pure conviction for the last moments of his journey. And by the utter grace of God, he made it there, his charge still unconscious and bleeding from the gaping puncture wound in her neck, but otherwise untouched.

With a huff, he quickly wrapped the sackcloth around her as he had done for himself, before unceremoniously sliding her from his shoulders out of the window to the cobbled street below. As she landed, there was a loud _thud_ and he wordlessly apologized. It was not his intention to harm her, but he wasn't capable of jumping through the high window with her added weight either. Hopefully the fall would not prove to be another injury, but there would be time to evaluate her condition later once they were clear of the hellish blaze. For now he needed to get himself and his charge to safety.

So with a well-balanced lunge, the man followed the woman, jumping through the windowpane once more. This time he landed on his feet and let his boots clomp on the now bloodstained pavement. Then he again shouldered his unmoving ward and disappeared into the depths of the city from whence he had come. Leaving the burning Tavern far behind him as the sun's light rose on the smoking morning and the woman cried out unknowingly in her comatose state.

* * *

From the tips of the sky the beginnings of light shone through the dark clouds of autumn, promising some warmth and reprieve from the darkness of the deeper months. But the sun had yet to fully shine, and due to this the large creature that currently flew through the heavens was unhindered. On silent wings of crimson and gray it cut through the clouds like a sword, going faster than any bird as it flapped erratically and spiraled North, not minding the city that sprawled below itself or the winter breeze that had started to blow in from the Adriatic.

With glowing light blue eyes, the creature gazed ahead, though his vision could only see _her._ The image of his human crying and broken, lying in a river of blood and fire.

A deep growl unconsciously ripped through the back of Dracula's throat as the thought burned vividly into his ancient mind. It caused him to go even faster than before- disobeying the laws of nature as he zipped towards the place he knew _she_ would be.

The vampire soared ever higher as his animalistic senses took full control, for his mind was too preoccupied to bother with something as simple as flight.

He had returned to his Summer Palace nearly an hour ago, after leaving his little Storyteller at her Tavern, knowing that the new day was close at hand. He would have stayed by her side, after almost losing her to the scum near the docks, but she had asked him for space and time and he had been willingly to give it to her. . . But now as he soared over the quiet earth, the vampire cursed himself for his compliance to the barmaid's whims. Because he had allowed her, her wish there was a high probability that he would be too late . . . A chance he would lose her forever.

Dracula knew that if his heart could still beat that it would have been unrivaled in its tempest. It had been more than 400 years since the vampire had known fear, but now it consumed him. He hissed through his fangs and forced his wings to beat harder against the air currents, pushing down his fear and trading it for determination. He _would_ reach Lynara in time. He _would_ care for her wounds and heal her. And if it was required for her to survive, he would change her. Dracula felt remorse at the thought, though with the condition his human was in he knew it might be a necessary evil.

In truth, the Count would have been oblivious to Lynara's fate if it hadn't been inflicted by Aleera's hand. But because of his connection to her, the vampire had known the second his youngest bride had diminished. It had been as he was about to rest, that he had heard Aleera desperately call to him and seen Lynara's body amongst the blood and flames, and he had immediately taken to flight.

As a Sire, Dracula was privy to a special bond with all those he transformed, and Aleera was no exception. It was an awareness to one another; a beacon that allowed for silent communication and sharing thoughts over long distances. And as the vampire had swooped from his darkened quarters and sailed into the midmorning heavens, he had felt his unity with Aleera laid to waste. It was like a mirror within his mind being shattered, as her final memories rushed to imprint upon his encumbered mind. In a breath of time, he had experienced Aleera's hatred towards his human firsthand, as well as her final act against the inhabitants of the Tavern- their strewn about, dismembered corpses making him involuntarily hungry. . . But the memory that had made him fly with such frantic energy, was what his bride had done to Lynara.

He had endured the details of her torture. Had felt her precious blood trickling down his throat as Aleera drank from her, and experienced the devastating pain the vampiress' had suffered before finally falling into her eternal sleep. Every emotion his bride had felt, his mind had reflected until there was nothing left to share. And then Aleera had truly passed beyond the world, leaving his conscious with a haunted scream of anguish that reached his ears alone. It rang throughout his entire being, before her presence was gone and the Count was once more himself though it held little comfort for him.

After another minute of flight, the vampire began to descend from the gray havens. And as he dipped below the cloud line, his eyes narrowed with unaccustomed dread.

The Tavern was aflame and the devastation was beginning to spread to several nearby buildings, filling the air with acrid smoke and ash. If the fire remained unchecked the whole area would be in danger of ruination. Though Dracula paid the possibility no mind as he landed gracefully and immediately began to change back into his human form. The leathery body and giant wings faded into his black coat and breeches, though the action went by utterly unnoticed. The nobleman strode faster than most humans could have run, and within seconds of setting his feet on solid ground, stood before the place he had been called to. His stride remained unbroken as he slammed his bare palm against the liquid hot door and entered into the unquenchable inferno.

As the Count's black clad form fully embraced the red-wrath that surrounded him on all sides, he felt the pain of his body burning. Though as quickly as he was incinerated, the vampire healed- his muscle and sinew flashing into view every few seconds in the flickering light. Most would have screamed in agony from the process, but the vampire remained silent and exact.

With deep blue eyes Dracula scanned the Tavern and felt both relief and apprehensive trepidation. There was no sign of Lynara. Her scent was faint, making it was obvious that she was no longer present.

His little Storyteller's whereabouts tormented him, but he also found himself treasuring the fact that she had not burned to death. So with unfeeling, ancient eyes, the Count looked at the almost unrecognizable Tavern, bidding it farewell, before he turned his attention to the shell that _had been_ Aleera. Silently he knelt down before her, taking in the now charred and crisp face he had come to know so well. Her hair, once so beautiful and smooth was black with soot and ash, and her clothes had been stained by both her own blood and that of the ones she had killed. . .

All was as it should be.

She had so loved the color red, and now it would permanently stain her in life _and_ death.

Gently, Dracula let his thumb caress her now deformed cheek, his face turning into an unreadable mask. He had never loved Aleera. Until his human had come, the Nosferatu had thought love an impossibility for his kind . . . And yet he had cared for Aleera . . . She had been his choice, his sireling . . . his Bride . . . and for that he would always remember her.

Slowly he leaned down, his raven locks draping over them like a curtain of night, as he placed a kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, my darling," he whispered against the crackling of the fire, before he let her go and stood. For a moment more he regarded Aleera, thinking back to the hundred years she had spent at his side, before he closed his eyes and began to morph. Instantly his body grew in size and shape; great leathery wings unfolding and he shifted into his monstrous from. Then Dracula let his instincts take over and lifted up into the scalding flames. And with a mighty roar the creature smashed past what was left of the Tavern ceiling and once more began his search for his mate.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Hello everyone! It has literally been forever since I last updated. Please accept my apologies for making you all wait so long. My life has been rather hectic lately, between quitting my job and starting a new one, other personal drama, and a terrible case of writer's block I haven't been able to touch my stories. Though I've recently broken my block and gung-ho again. ^^

I would like to give a sincere shout out to everyone that has reviewed, faved, watched, or read this story! You are all amazing and I am so grateful to you! Words cannot express how much your guy's attention means to me! *hugs and hands out brownies*

Though an extra special shout out is in order. There are three lovely ladies that have been super helpful and encouraging. Without their love and support this chapter might have taken me a lot longer than it did.

 _ **EEstelle**_ (love you baby girl), _**Aintaru**_ _(_ thanks for being my personal cheering machine), and the ever lovely Madame _**Remember**_ (as always your words have the sweetest effect on me. Thank you so much, my friend! I couldn't do this without you!)

Also I would like to thank: **Kennawenna722** _ **,**_ **UntiedHeartbeat, MEGUMIthePENGUIN, RavenHuffle, AnimeFan001, .7, xxyangxx2006, alexc1209, Madam Silver** ,and **Fanficqueen306**! Your reviews meant the world to me too!

This chapter was pure description to set up what's coming next. I hope ya'll aren't bored to tears. Though it was all important. Our stranger with the Sea-Green eyes is going to play a very big part coming up. ;)

So any ideas, thoughts, predictions? More cheering for the fact that Aleera is gone? Lol

Love you guys! See you next chapter!

 _ **~Lyn**_ **  
**


	16. Chapter 16

**Dancing into the Night: Part Sixteen**

* * *

 _Gray._

Billowing and smoky out of nowhere and everywhere. Differing shades of destruction and pain. . . So. Much. _Pain_. . . Everywhere. . . A physical manifestation of defeat and longing.

 _Gray_.

It was there; writhing in the faces of the dead and lost - a smoky cloud of their lives and ambitions . . . all lost. All of them loved or needed . . . and all of them _gone_.

Lynara huddled silently in the farthest corner of the smoke, crying for each of the figures that had slowly melted into the mist. They all ignored her as they passed just beyond reach; being swallowed in one surge of the swirling fog before forever disappearing from view. Their eyes were alert and yet almost completely glazed over- as if they knew where they were but had no desire to be elsewhere. They continuously looked forward, expressions of tranquility or oblivion as they marched unhurriedly on their way. The people never stopped moving, never faltered in their steps; the procession was eternal and soon there were no more familiar faces to see. Only strangers that seemed _somewhat_ recognizable slipped by the maid, causing her even more alarm then before.

They seemed to come from all over. Flooding and sauntering around her in a crowd that gradually grew larger and larger, until she was surrounded on all sides. They were dressed in all styles of clothing, with different body types and colors of skin and hair. Some were little children, some were middle aged, and some were old- but they all flowed forward with purpose. Each confident in their unknown journey; each steadfast in where they were going. But _all_ eventually disappearing into the smoke that was alive.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?"

Lynara visibly jumped as the voice interrupted the muted quiet, and instantly turned wary brown eyes to regard the one who was now standing beside her. It seemed like she had been alone for such an exceedingly long time, that to be engaged by anyone was a lurching experience. But when the maid's gaze was met with stunning emerald green orbs and hair the shade of fire, she immediately felt trepidation rise to join the shock that now rested menacingly in the pit of her stomach. The dark skinned lass had thought the fog itself was unsettling, but the figure that towered above her made the girl momentarily forget it all.

Even after everything Lynara had been through, the devil's bride had returned to wreak havoc upon her . . . now, in a time when she was too fragile and destitute to flee. So the barmaid sat in dismal acceptance, and looked up at the one who had stolen everything she held dear.

"Have you come back to kill me, _vampire,_ " Lynara spat with silent venom and misery; her hands clenching into fists as she prepared herself for the worst. "Or are you here to torture me with more thoughtless slaughter and suffering?"

From where she loomed above the grief-stricken woman, Aleera made no move against her. But watched the girl calmly with ancient and tired eyes.

"I have nothing more _to_ _do_ , human. My hatred for you no longer drives me."

Lynara was more than skeptical as she gazed doubtfully at the red-haired beauty- daring a question before.

". . . Then what does . . . What has replaced it all? If you no longer have enmity for me . . . why are you here?"

For a long moment Aleera was silent, taking in the figures that walked past them with something akin to yearning. She almost seemed eager to join them, though ultimately held herself back. . . And it was then that Lynara realized the difference of her rival.

Though Aleera virtually appeared the same as she had in the Tavern, her whole countenance had been transformed. Her eyes that had been so full of contempt and disgust, were now somber and serene; her expression soft compared to the vindictive jut of her jawline that had almost been permanent not too long ago.

". . . I am empty. . . I have nothing more to hold onto," Aleera said after another breath and the slightest hint of tears. "My time is over."

Lynara's brow furrowed in confusion, before the faintest taste of understanding began to niggle at the recesses of her mind.

"Why? . . . Where is it that have we been cast to," the maid asked as she once more took in the wandering people and the silver and charcoal mist.

"The crossroads," came Aleera's simple reply. "The place where all must come before they are judged and sentenced."

"Sentenced?"

The green eyes looked upon her dolefully; an unspoken resentment hovering just beyond the maid's view. "The final punishment or reward, human. . . An edict of _Heaven_ or _Hell_ awaits all who walk here."

Lynara's breath became shallow, a choked off gasp at the back of her throat, before several transparent tears fell to coat her paled cheeks.

. . . . After so much, for so long, she had finally reached it. . . _The end_. . . Her final chapter: made up of shadows and the ghosts of her past.

"You killed me," Lynara whispered as the tears dripped past her chin onto her body that she now realized was covered in white colored robes. How she had come to be in such delicate and fine clothes, she would never know. ". . . It is done. . ."

"Not like you might suppose."

Lynara looked to Aleera with concern and her earlier ire. "How would I _suppose_ , vampire? When I'm covered in robes of pearl and feel none of the pain you inflicted upon me? What else _is there_ but death and the next life?"

"There is _idleness_ , little whore," the vampire laughed pleasantly- a surprisingly patient and peaceful sound. Nothing at all like the laugh she had presented in the Tavern. "Death is not the only option given to those who come to the gray shores."

Lynara fought to clear her mind of all emotion and struggled to collect the facts of her situation . . . but for once logic was no friend. Gray Shores? Could it be a limbo of sorts? Aleera had said it was a place between Heaven and Hell. . . But what exactly did that mean?

"If this is truly a place for those who are to be judged, why are _you_ here with me," Lynara demanded.

The red-haired woman looked remorseful for a moment, before she answered.

"You have us mixed up, little whore . . . we have become opposites now . . ."

"What is that supposed to-?"

"It is _I_ who have died," Aleera interrupted; her tone one of admission. "And you who live in limbo."

Lynara shook her head in confusion, "B-But you drank my blood . . . you killed me . . ."

"I tried to," the vampire corrected with an emotionless laugh. "But in the end, it was you who destroyed _me._ "

When the dark maid became silent, her troubled mind trying to believe the unexpected truth it had been presented, Aleera continued.

"I have been here countless days since my second birth- each more painful than the last. But never have I been called into the mist . . . to a conclusion of my existence as I know it. . . It is a relief to be finished at last. . ."

"You've been here before?"

Aleera regarded her with mild humor, as if the answer was obvious.

"Where do you think a _Nosferatu's_ conscious goes when the sun rises?" Lynara made no attempt to reply, but her expression showed her surprise at the concept. "We are neither living nor dead. It makes sense that when we close our eyes we are brought to the place between. Slumber is for those who are _able_ to wake . . . but a vampire's nightmare is eternal."

For a time the two women were silent, one fighting to comprehend all that had occurred, and the other preparing herself for the inevitable. Until Lynara finally broke the calm with another question.

"How do you know I am not dead?"

Aleera wasted no time in gesturing a delicate forefinger towards the girl's apparel. "If you had passed into the realm of the dead, you would be unchanged from the clothes you were wearing before. Only those stuck here without a path wear robes like yours."

Lynara quickly looked at Aleera's attire, and the garments of several who passed, to see if the vampire's word could be trusted. And to her fortune, each person wore different clothing, Aleera included- with her pink and red two-piece gown and beaded veil.

Lynara was _not_ dead.

At the realization of her distinct contrast, a strong sense of distress filled the young maid; though deep down she knew that her being stuck in such a place was appropriate. She had always been alone and discarded. Why should the next life be any different? She had lived an orphan among the Holy Brothers who had always looked down upon her because of her bastard history- and in her aunt's home the sense of being on her own had remained. Even working in the Tavern with Lexya and having visits from Papa Petrego, Lynara had never been able to connect. . . The only person to have ever even had a semblance of sincere kinship with her was Vladislaus . . . and even he had withheld the truth from her.

In the end, she was on her own . . . and utterly broken because of it. . . Sitting alongside the bride of the man she loved.

"I am sorry," Lynara finally said, after what seemed like years of silence. "I know my apologies mean nothing to you . . . but it was never my intention t-to. . . I never knew that the Count belonged to another. If I had, I never would have stayed in his company or acted upon the promptings of the heart."

Aleera gave her a meaningful glance, before shaking her head. "You _would_ _have_ , human, even if you _had_ known. My Master is not someone you can dispense of so easily."

"No," the maid insisted, "I would have walked away." Lynara cried softly, as she bent her head and felt her chest grow heavy. "Had I known that he already belonged to another, I would not have allowed my emotions to rule my head. . . And I would have stayed safe."

Aleera looked bemused at the statement, as if she was privy to a private joke before she divulged her thoughts on the matter.

"You were not the first to be beguiled by him, barmaid. Nor the first woman who didn't wish to share my Master's attentions with others. . . And I somehow doubt you will be the _last_."

It was a hurtful thought, but most likely an accurate one.

Lynara gave a wet sigh as she once more gazed at the crowd of strangers, as her heart sputtered in a melancholy beat- before she acted on an impulse. With a shaky, frightened hand, the young barmaid reached out and took the vampire's long-nailed one into her own. And when Aleera looked down at her in bewilderment, Lynara's voice cracked with countless emotions.

"Forgive me."

Aleera was silent for several minutes as she studied the human who held onto her. It was obvious that she wasn't herself. The human was fatigued in all aspects from their earlier encounter; which could be the only proper explanation for her current actions.

"It was _I_ who killed your friends in the Tavern. _I_ am the one who hurt _you,"_ Aleera reminded her softly, her anger having turned to ash along with her heart.

Impassioned brown eyes stared at her unwavering. "Do not mistake me- I _loathe_ you. I wish for you to rot in the deepest circle of hell for what you have done to me and my loved ones. . . But your wrong-doings do not undo my own. My actions . . . my _choices_ caused yours; which doesn't make them any less terrible or excusable . . . but once more we must share the blame and consequences of our decisions."

Aleera's emerald green eyes grew softer as the girl's words dwindled, before she surprised Lynara by gently squeezing her hand. A look of amity spread to color her unblemished face.

"There is no more to forgive. . . _Lynara_."

The Tavern maid's chocolate eyes grew wide as the she-demon said her name for the first time. It had always been 'human' or 'little whore', but this time Aleera had taken the effort. Something had changed; the darkness having subsided. And the pale white palm grasped the brown one in a silent confirmation of respect and detachment that neither would have ever thought possible to coexist.

"When you wake, I pray you will be able to find what I couldn't," Aleera expressed genuinely, before she let her hand slip from Lynara's and turned away from the maid. "Tell Vladislaus that I'll be waiting for him in the Fiery Pit. . . I'm sure he'll be down to join me soon enough."

Then, before Lynara could answer her, Aleera began to dance away. Her bare feet seemed to ring out in the stillness as she glided gracefully towards the gray mist; her old expression of superiority back in place. Each step she took, was a statement of what she had been. Each twirl highlighting the challenging and devious nature she had been instilled with. In the end she might had died a human, but she had always _been_ a _**Nosferatu**_. And though she knew full well that the devil was waiting for her, Aleera didn't falter or stray from her path. She would burn, but burn as herself: Aleera, the temporal seductress she had chosen to be.

Lynara regarded Aleera's display with solemn attentiveness as the vampiress confronted her final moments of freedom unperturbed. Before she finally reached the gray and disappeared into it; her fiery red hair fanning out behind her in farewell, as she passed through.

Then she was gone, leaving the dark barmaid on her own once more.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_

After three times of hardcore rewriting I finally had to give up and say enough. XDD But I'm actually rather pleased with the final result. Though I didn't originally intend to give Aleera more of a send-off, I think it turned out better this way. After all, no character is _completely_ evil.

 **Special Shout and Thanks to:**

 **EEstelle** (I'm so pleased you have joined the crazy party, my dear! I'm so happy that you are enjoying the story and are reading it! Your comments and insights are invaluable to me! 3 )

 **Madam Silver** (Sorry it took me so long to update! ^^; lol I'll try to do better! )

 **DraculasBride22** (I do believe you are the first to want Van Helsing to swoop in for Lynara. XD But I'm honored you are enjoying the story so much! Thank you so much for reading and commenting! )

 **alexc1209** ( The green eyed person is _not_ someone from the film. He is an OC of mine that I've decided to throw into the mix to make thing even more complicated. XDD Sorry love! I think several people have thought that it was Van Helsing to the rescue, but I couldn't make it that easy. lol)

 **Fanficqueen306** (Thanks for being so patient with me and my crappy writers block, dearie! That means a lot to me! I hope you like the new chapter!)

 **Cloelius Princess** (Sorry for the jump scare with the last couple chapters. XD I promise that I will mention it being the end when we finally reach it.)

 **RavenHuffle** (Oh my gosh, you are the sweetest! Thank you so much! Your review truly made me smile like an idiot! I love fanfictions that go the distance with description and I always try my best to have my writing be interactive with a reader's minds-eye. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, my dear!)

 **MercyShadow** (Your thoughts are very interesting and somewhat on track with what I have in store. ^^ I love that you're so curious to see what part the newcomer plays. I shall do my best to make it good. Your praise and putting my name anywhere near Madame _Remember_ has made me absolutely giddy! Words cannot express how grateful I am for your comment! Please fangirl away!)

 **AnimeFan001** ( Thanks for sticking with me despite crappy update times, dearie! :D )

 **xxyangxx2006** ( Your curiosity is lovely! Thank you so much for taking interest in my humble story, my dear! It truly means the world to me! )

 **MEMGUMIthePENGUIN** ( Your fangirl screams are music to my ears, honey! ^^ I'm so happy that you are excited for updates! I shall to be more frequent with them! Please apologize to your household on my behalf. XD )

 **MissMooToYou** ( Lovely guess! But you'll have to wait and see who the stranger is. ;) )

Madame **Remember** (As always I have no accurate words to express my gratitude for your lovely review. You always go the extra mile (even when you don't have to) and brighten my day beyond belief! ^^ Your grasp of VH, Dracula, and his Brides is just beautiful to me, and it always makes your insights on this story that much sweeter! Thank you so much for always taking the time to encourge lil ole me. It is never taken for granted. *hugs*)

 ****** As for everyone else who is reading the story: THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU ARE THE BEST!

See you all next chapter!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Dancing into the Night: Part Seventeen**

* * *

There was only smoke and disillusion, and Lynara regarded it all as silent as the grave. For an eternity she floated through the Gray Crossroads; watching as countless crowds passed her to receive their Final Judgement. Each person was unique and it made her heart ache for what had been. The maid longed to join them; to be at peace one way or the other. . . but instead she was forced to linger alone in the dark.

It was maddening to watch them; heartbreaking to be left behind indefinitely. But Lynara never called out to them, nor made a sound. The only noise to be heard from the dark maid was the soft radiating thud of her almost imperceptible heart, hidden among the quietude.

For an unknown amount of time, Lynara continued like this: a stilled shell of regret. . . But then as her brown eyes closed against the unforgiving gray, she felt a change.

At first it was small; hardly noticeable at all. . . But as the seconds passed it became almost overwhelming. The world was _shifting_ all around her, as if it was being tipped to and fro, like a ship on the ocean. And with each tip, her body grew _heavier_.

Startled by the drastic movement, Lynara's eyes once more shot open as she fought to understand what was happening. Perhaps Aleera had lied to her. Perhaps she was dead and had just been forced to wait for the proper time. Was this all a sign that she was to enter the mist like the others? Or was it something else?

The young woman quickly fought to scramble up from her slouched position on the ground. . . but was hindered. Her legs refused to move as she anxiously pulled at them- trying to rise and escape into the fog. But the more she struggled, the heavier and more panicked she became. What could this possibly mean? How could her body mass be up for transformation? And why now?

Lynara once more tried to lift her legs, this time with her hands, but found that her arms were unyielding as well. She cried out in fear and frustration as she continued to fight for control of her limbs, but to no avail.

. . . And that was when the tipping sensation stopped and the Crossroads completely disappeared from her view. Leaving nothing but pitch black space and the feeling of free-falling from a great summit.

Lynara would have screamed if she'd been able, but all that came out was a gust of breath. She fell hard and fast in the abyss- unable to see where she was or where she was going. For hours she seemed to tumble, her mind horrifically aware of its capacity and well-being, until she was effectively blinded by a light in the distance. The more she fell, the closer to the light she drew. And as the golden glow enveloped her fully, the young woman's fall came to a jarring and abrupt end. . .and she shot up, awake as a fresh scream rose from her clenched throat.

 **o0o0o0o0o0o**

Lynara gasped as she cut off the scream that had spouted from her lips, and moved her hands to cover her sweat-laced face. Initially the action was quite liberal, proving that she was no longer too weighed down to function. But after a second of this freedom, the maid was once more caught by surprise. As she moved her arms up around her head, a white-hot pain shot through her right forearm like a lightning strike, causing her to choke out a harsh cry of anguish. The flash was enough to leave Lynara winded, as if she had been hit in the stomach. But it didn't last long, and soon her cries had filled the space around her.

With sleep-glazed eyes, the woman lifted her right arm into her line of vision, trying to fight her dazed state enough to understand why she was hurting. As her arm hovered before her clammy face, her eyes grew wide. The entirety of her right arm was covered in off-white bandage cloths. . . or at least they _had_ been off-white. Now they were stained with dark crimson and . . . black.

With twitching fingers, the woman began to carefully pull the bandages off. But when they resisted her unstable attempts, she threw caution to the wind; ripping and yanking at the cloth until she was able to tear it away. The sight that met Lynara made her freeze in absolute shock.

The young woman's once smooth arm was now a bloody, charred mass- her skin beyond all help, seeing as it had been torched so forcibly. It was obvious from looking at her mangled arm that her blood had tried to clot and heal itself, but with the massive damage it had suffered, the self-preservation had ultimately failed.

The violence with which Lynara had pulled the dressing from her arm, had made her charcoaled skin start to bleed again. And as the ruby stream flowed freely down and slid into her lap, the woman couldn't help but note the smell that accompanied it. The wound was infected. . . but it was the scent of burnt _human flesh_ that caught her attention, causing her to retch and more importantly _recall_ all that had occurred.

The smell made the dark maid remember her Tavern set to flames, and her loved ones' bodies scattered about a bloody and desecrated home. . . and she remembered Aleera's glowing eyes as she had slammed her arm into the fire. . .

 _It wasn't a dream_ , Lynara thought maniacally as she pressed her free hand into her bleeding arm, to try and stop the all-consuming red. _The Crossroads, the Fire, Lexya and Papa Petrego, Aleera and . . . ._ _ **Vladislaus**_ _. . ._

Lynara felt her sorrow and regrets crash upon her tenfold as she clutched her deformed forearm, before she realized that she was crying again. . . Though this time, it was accompanied by a guttural and heartbroken sound, that seemed to shatter her very soul as it escaped into the otherwise still air. She writhed as both her physical and mental turmoil came to a head. Her weakened form slumped face forward as all her energy drained from her. She sobbed without a thought of where she was or who might be listening; for once letting her emotion completely take ahold of her without any opposition.

She longed to be numbed to it all, but instead the young woman's feelings merely expanded and corrupted her sanity further. Images of her loved one's heads piled on the Tavern counter haunted her, to the point where she scrubbed at her eyes to remove the sight. But this only managed to cover her eyelids and lashes with her blood, and to blind her view of her surroundings. Her tears washed the worst of the claret markings away, but the trail remained: a solid manifestation of her soul as she cried bloody tears.

Lynara lost herself to the throes of grief- rocking back and forth in a broken fashion as she was forced to face the worst of her loss. . . Though if she had been more aware of her surroundings, the distraught maid would have noticed a singular figure that approached her on muted feet, to hover directly behind her and to her left. With calloused yet gentle hands, the stranger reached out, hesitant at first, to wrap a soothing arm about her shaking shoulders- surprising her.

" _Nooo_!" She cried out, trying to pull away from him and scrub at her eyes once more. "Please! _Please_! No more! I cannot take it!"

"You must calm yourself, or you'll take further injury," the figure reasoned, urging for the currently blinded lass to lay back down on the cot she had been otherwise oblivious to. "You must rest, my lady."

Lynara ceased her struggle against the unknown grip, before she turned her head. "Count? Is that you? How did you find me? Why am I not dead? How am I still here?"

The figure shushed her softly as he held onto her, one arm going around her middle while the other reached down to pull her hand away from her burnt flesh. With intent sea-green eyes he assessed the damage she had inflicted upon herself, along with the aspects she had _not_.

The wound was worst now than it had been; her hysterics having caused the charred laceration to split even wider than previously. And with the large gap, came a most rancid, infectious ooze- joining the blood and tissue in a ghastly display of red and black.

The man had seen some bad injuries in the past, but the woman's arm was surely one of the worst he had beheld.

"Rest," he bid her again, as her sobs became choked whimpers and her head tipped back against his shoulder blade. "All will be clearer tomorrow."

For a breath all that could be heard was Lynara's quieting tears, before her raspy voice resounded. It seemed that her time in the burning Tavern had affected her vocal chords too, though the man had no inclination as to whether this would be permanent or not.

"Y-You are not _him. . ._ So why do you care for my well-being?"

"I will tell you when you are more yourself, my lady," he vowed as his sea green eyes danced with a strange expression. "You are safe here. I swear that all will be explained when you awaken again."

More tears filtered down the woman's gaunt, pale cheeks as she closed her eyes painfully. "The last time I was made such assurances, my heart was stolen by darkness and my home was turned to ash. . ."

The man was silent, either unwilling or unable to reply, until Lynara's head finally tilted back the entire way and the shaking of her body lessened. The pain had been too much; she had blacked out once more. For this her caretaker was more than a little grateful.

There would be time to introduce himself and to beseech her for her help. But for now, her bile-ridden arm was more important.

The man with the sea-green orbs sighed imperceptibly, as he once more studied her wound. If he had been in a kinder climate, he might have been able to help her by normal means. But seeing as they were in the wilds of the Carpathian's and far from any civilization, such methods were out of the question.

The man had wished to take her to a healing ward in Budapest, but with the accursed _Nosferatu_ closing in on them, he had had to make an ill-suited choice. And here they were. In the ruins of an old Abbey, tucked away on Holy Ground as the first winter snow blew in from the north.

For a long minute, the man regarded the fatigued maid that he held; taking in the little details as he prepared himself for what he must do. She was a fair lass, though surprisingly normal looking, he thought. Simple, but pretty in a natural sort of way. It was truly a shame that she had gotten tangled within the midst of the Church's mission.

"I am sorry," he whispered to her, making up his mind as he reached down for the blessed knife that resided in his robes. For a breath, he wavered. This was the absolute _last_ resort and he would have been relieved to have gone without doing it. . . But she was beyond his means of help, and there was only one thing left for him to do. . .

With a steady yet meaningful hand, he raised his knife up, eyeing Lynara as she rested unawares, before he forced himself into action.

Without further thought, he pressed the blade into the meatier part of his wrist; drawing blood in an instant. He hissed slightly as he removed the metal from the new slice, and watched his own life source flow eagerly from the cut. Then, he positioned his incision over Lynara's burnt flesh. Unhurriedly, his blood began to mix with the woman's, and he grimaced as the plasma came to life before his eyes.

The crimson elixir frothed as it mixed properly, before her broken skin began to harden and take a solid shape. It moved as if it had a mind of its own, before stopping and becoming sedentary. Its task was completed to utter perfection.

Where the woman's arm had been infected and crisp to the touch, it now was virtually _invulnerable_. A glossy red shell of a scab having moved to cover the decayed spot completely from view.

With his forefinger, the man pressed against the encasing, testing its resolve warily. It was rock hard and smooth, causing him both alarm and satisfaction.

The woman's blood had protected her twice now, proving that it was stronger than he had anticipated. Which would be either a blessing or a curse when his proposal was laid before her feet.

The man pulled out a small cloth from within his robes and pressed it against his wrist, before he moved Lynara from his lap and back onto the cot. For a time, he watched her, making sure that the blood-shell would last, before he stood and took his leave. Though even after he left and she was out of his sight, two sea-green eyes swam with persevering unease.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Hahah, so many cliffhangers and sporadic updates. Sorry guys! I hope you can enjoy this chapter, I tried to have it have some juicy bits at the end. lol Any more guesses about Lynara's blood? *wink wink*

Special thanks to: **Amita4ever, RoyalBlood18, Scarlet Empress, DraculasBride22, alexc1209, RavenHuffle, AnimeFan001, Madam Silver, thexsharpestlives, Fanficqueen306, MEGUMthePENGUIN, the Anonymous Guest (lol), my darling EEstelle, and the exceptionally lovely** Madame **Remember.**

Thank you all so much for reading and giving this story so much love! I would hug you all if I could! 3 I'll see you guys next chapter!

 ** _~Lyn_**


	18. Chapter 18

**Dancing into the Night: Part Eighteen**

* * *

It was a day later that Lynara once more opened her eyes to the world. As her crusted over lashes fluttered and her chocolate orbs fought to focus, the maid's recollections returned to her. Though this time as her memories flashed before her vibrant mind's eye, Lynara had no tears to shed. Instead, she wrestled the dull ache into submission and locked it deep within her psyche. She had cried more than enough, and it had done nothing to improve her situation or broken soul. There would be time to grieve when her goals were met. But for now, she would force her heart to stay in check and use her mind in its stead.

With this promise to herself, the young woman dutifully absorbed the specifics of her surroundings. She a deep breath and embraced all the details that her hollowed thoughts could handle. It was hard to stay on task, but somehow she did. It was important and she would not waste another moment.

The first thing that caught Lynara's attention, besides her newly bandaged arm, was that she was once more tucked securely into the cot. Four large blankets were stacked atop her sparsely clad body to preserve her comfort and body heat. It was safe to assume that someone must have been watching out for her.

The room itself was drafty and by all signs ancient. The air was stale with the slightest hint of mildew, and it was cold enough to almost see one's breath take a physical form. The walls were made up of great square slabs of stone; uneven in shape but mortared together in such a fashion that the structure was sturdy and had passed the tests of time.

There wasn't much in the way of furnishings, save for a large crucifix that had been nailed to the wall, and a single wooden pew that resided in front of it. Two candelabra flickered eerily across the aged stones; but there was no source of light, natural or otherwise.

It must have been a church of some sort, at one time or another. But now, it lay in a solemn decay, after years of abandonment. But despite the dreary and lackluster appearance, the feeling that washed over Lynara as she took in the holy relic was unmistakable. Having been raised by the Holy Brothers, the maid was familiar enough to recognize the sanctity that hovered like a mist in the sealed hall. Even in a forsaken church it was there, just beneath the surface, palpable and discerned.

As the young woman's sight grew ever clearer in the flickering light, she granted the crucifix her full attention, in hopes of seeing the small designs on it. Though as she strained her gaze in the dimness of the room, Lynara was surprised to see that she wasn't, in fact alone. Due to the poor glow of the candles, the girl had failed to spot the hooded figure who sat at the lonesome pew. But now that she did, the maid openly observed the stranger to her best advantage.

From the lean, muscular build it was easy to guess that the cloaked being was male. Besides that, the lass was at a loss. . . Until it hit her. The person who had held her when she had awoken in pain and tears; the one who had promised to give her answers. . . This must be _him_! It had to be.

Lynara continued to stare at the helpful stranger for several long moments. She gathered her courage, before gingerly shoving her covers away and standing from the cot. The cold draft that hit her bared skin was enough to make the woman question her decision to rise, but ultimately she ignored it. Her body was covered only by a white shift. Luckily it was made of a solid material that reached down to her ankles, but despairingly it was cut lower around her chest and exposed more flesh. She cringed at the lack of modesty, but could not help her state of dress. So Lynara fought down her anxieties and kept moving.

In spite of wearing only the shift, and having no way to defend herself, Lynara sidled towards the stilled man. Her bare feet pattered against the frozen stones, no doubt alerting him that she was coming. Even so, she refused to shy away. He had vowed to grant her answers, and to Lynara, there was nothing more important.

The dark maid now came to stand at the man's left, her knees almost touching the wood of the pew, and noted that his robes were that of a Priest. Currently, his eyes were closed and he did not stir. So, unwilling to forcefully disturb him, the woman thoughtfully trained her eye on the crucifix.

It was truly a thing of beauty- made of silver and sleekly cut garnet stones. And all around the three edges of the cross, a Latin inscription had been carved with the utmost care.

Lynara's understanding of Latin expanded far beyond her capability of speaking it, due to years of study, and she easily translated the words. . . though they caught her off guard. The woman's expression was that of confusion as she read the inscription a second time, thinking she had misread it somehow. But she had not.

It was the Prayer for a Happy Death.

In all her years of living in the Abbey with the Holy Brothers, Lynara had never heard of this particular prayer being used to adorn and compliment a Holy Relic. It made her question where she was once again. What sort of place would have such a prayer as its forefront thought? It made no sense. Why would any person of the cloth wish for such a dark topic to be their mantra? Surely there were happier prayers to murmur- lighter chants to take up?

Lynara would have pondered on this for a long time if she hadn't felt someone's gaze on her. And heard the Latin words spoken in the dark room.

" _Great and omnipotent judge of the living and the dead: give us the_ _grace_ _to prepare for our last hour by a devout and holy life, and protect us against a sudden and unprovoked death."_

Slowly, the maid turned to glance at the man who sat in the pew, and saw that he was watching her closely. Even in the faded light of the candles, the details of his face were still muted, but his eyes shone flawlessly in the shadows. They were a bright sea-green, with specks of what appeared to be gray near the edge of the iris. They were stunning, and the longer Lynara looked into them, the more familiar they seemed.

For a breath more, the two continued to regard one another before the man untucked one of his hands from his robes and beckoned to the bench. The maid obediently took a seat at the opposite end- far enough from him to run away, but near enough to hear him if he chose to speak again. For a long minute, the lass kept silent, allowing herself ample time to gather her thoughts. This was no small feat, but somehow the dark skinned maid was able to temper the tidal wave of negative emotions and numb her senses. It was a dangerous thing to do, seeing as she didn't know this man's motives, but the alternative would have been unbearable for the discussion she was preparing to have.

"Will you speak with me now?"

The inquiry was barely above a whisper, but the man seemed to hear her. His head was bowed, hidden by the cowl of his unorthodox gray robes, but his posture remained subdued.

"What knowledge does milady wish to know?" His voice was deep and raspy from a lack of use, but still somehow managed to be smooth in transition. Lynara would have found it perplexing if she hadn't been hiding from her emotions. But since she was numbed to her unnecessary thoughts and feelings, the young woman didn't dwell on it.

"There is no information that you could tell me about our situation, that I would not take an interest in, sir."

He paused as if thinking. "There is much that I could impart."

"Then start at the beginning," she bided him patiently, her voice soft in the cold chamber. "I have time to spare."

Finally, the cloaked figure looked up from the small book he had been gingerly holding in his hands. He closed its pages, before placing it on the bench between them. It was an old tome that the woman immediately recognized as the Bible.

"There is no beginning, and the end is unknown to me."

The riddle behind these words made the girl's heart flip with uncertainty, but once more she pushed past it. Before Aleera had ruined her life, the lass would have patiently waited for him to say more, and never thought of prying into his inner thoughts. She had always been a neutral person, in both conversation and actions. But the days of the Tavern and her old life were gone, and she was fatigued from being naive to the plights that challenged her.

"Tell me what you will, sir. But I ask that you be candid. I cannot gain answers from mysteries or half-truths."

"You wonder why you are here?" She nodded, her dark curls bouncing into her face as she brushed them back. "What do you remember?"

Lynara's hands involuntarily clenched, but after a second to compose herself she complied.

"I remember everything. . . my home burning to ash, along with the corpses of my loved ones. . . I recall dying and being trapped in my own despair in a cloud of gray." Lynara persevered firmly as she spoke, but her chocolate eyes showed another tale entirely. There was anguish hidden there, though the man didn't address it.

"And before that," he questioned softly.

 _Before that. . . Before that there was only . . ._

 _. . ._ _ **Vladislaus**_ _. . ._

Lynara's desensitized shell of a heart cracked as the Count's name tortured her fragile mind, but her face continued to be immovable.

"I was courted by the night," she divulged. ". . .And I gained some scars I had never thought to possess in this life . . . or even the next."

The man lifted his sea-green gaze to her with an unreadable expression that made the subtle freckles on his skin seem out of place. They spoke of younger days and happy summers while his current mask seemed in-tuned with an eternal winter.

"Is that what he has become after all these years?"

"I do not know who you speak-"

"Dracul . . . the one you called your _night_ ," he interrupted calmly.

Lynara's brow raised and her pulse quickened uncomfortably. "I might ask how are you familiar with the Count?"

The lines around his eyes hardened almost imperceptibly, and he wasn't quick to answer. "Our paths have crossed, my lady. Though I had thought him to be long dead."

Lynara would have laughed at the absurdity of his statement if she hadn't been stretched so thin. The Count was indeed _dead,_ but not in the way this man had implied. Nor by any of the normal means of the grave. The maid's expression must have given away her train of thought, for the man immediately shook his head and turned to regard the crucifix.

"We cannot begin this way." His words were fast and his tone indisputable.

For a long time, the sea-green eyes studied the cross; their owner still before he lowered his hood. His head was shaved, but it was clear that his hair would have been a lighter shade of brown. His face was thin and angular, with strong creases around his eyes and mouth. But it was the countless scars that littered his face and neck that caught and held Lynara's focus. They covered him. Some were formed in lines like blade slices while some resembled other weapons. . . and then some looked like . . . _teeth marks._

"I would give you my name, milady, but I fear I was never blessed with one."

"Are you not a Priest?"

"I _am_."

"Then how were you not Christened at birth or before you took the cloth?"

"It is a long story and not relevant to what you truly wish to know."

"Tell me please," she pleaded softly. "I will not interrupt you again. But I must know the truth. It is all I would wish of you."

He regarded her intently for another breath before turning to study the crucifix again. As his eyes took in the Latin inscription he began.

"I _was_ a Priest of God's Church. As a boy, I was trained and taught by the Brothers in Holy Rome. It was there that I realized my destiny. And it is now _your_ destiny, that brings me here." Lynara's expression showed that she was startled, but kept her word and stayed quiet.

"You were raised in an abbey, like me."

Lynara nodded, albeit hesitantly.

"The Holy Brothers wouldn't have given you that opportunity if you didn't have something great before you."

" . . .What are you implying, sir?" She finally asked, her voice barely audible as she tried to understand.

"That you are a woman that was meant to do God's work."

"I left the cloister behind me with no regrets. It was never a life that I wanted." This much was true. Lynara had been taught and prepared for such a future, but luckily her Aunt had taken her away from it all before she'd come of age.

"You mistake me." His hands lay flat against the surface of his lap; his eyes never wavering from the cross. "I did not speak of God's work by the means of a Nunnery."

Lynara shook her head, unable to grasp his meaning. There was only one function that a woman could do to serve the Church, and that was to become a Nun. Every other position or calling was held by men alone.

"You were taken from your mother at birth for a purpose," he continued softly, his raspy voice making the maid shudder unwantedly. "You were taught the ways of light, due to the tasks you would be asked to handle in the future."

"There is nothing that I can do for the Church." She had not meant for her voice to come out harshly, but it had. Lynara's faith had always been constant in what she deemed her _Creator_ , but those who spoke and preached in his name had never held her particular favor.

"Your heritage disagrees."

"Do not presume that know about my family or my past!"

"I know that your mother committed adultery and was punished for her transgression." The mention of her mother made the woman's heart ache. "I know that your father was killed long before you were born, and I am aware that you left the Church before you could be trained."

Her complexion had paled considerably, and when she addressed him, the dark maid's voice cracked with emotion. "Trained for what?"

"To hunt down those of your father's ilk- the creatures of the night."

"What? . . . No, that is absurd. You _are_ mistaken."

"I am not," he assured her gently.

The woman's head swam with the strange shift in their conversation. In all her years of life, Lynara had never heard a word of her father. The Monks had told her that she was conceived from a single encounter. That her mother had given in to a careless lapse of passion. And she had never thought to challenge the information. . . Though as she struggled to think past her traumatic memories and the beginnings of physical pain in her bandaged arm, Lynara felt curiosity and dread fill her.

"I came to find you, milady so that you could fulfill your station and be recognized by the Holy Order. . . So you could return with the honor you should have been given from the start."

"I have no desire for _anything_. The only things I cared for have either been destroyed or disappeared completely. I am broken and owe the Church nothing. I only want peace of mind- to be left alone."

"I would leave you to your own devices, milady. But if you turn away from this calling many will be hurt."

Lynara gasped as the sea-green eyes turned on her again. They were so alive and intent that she almost forgot to breathe.

"Why? I have no mind to agree. . . But what would the Church have me do?"

"There is a creature that you must vanquish. The Church has tried for many years to find its weakness, and we have finally succeeded."

"I will not kill anyone," Lynara said vehemently.

"Even if this beast will continue to take lives and harm innocent people?"

Lynara shook her head. "I have killed animals for food and skins, sir. I have plucked chickens and roasted pigs. But I fear that the _beast_ you speak of is not that type of creature."

The Priest sighed, momentarily silent before he finally elaborated. Though as he did so, the hair on Lynara's arms and legs rose in dismay and fear.

"He is not. . .

"450 years ago a man came into being. . . sired by the Devil himself. He was granted terrible gifts and given free-reign to enslave the Children of Light. This beast was not the first of his kind, but has most certainly been the most fearsome of his line. . . and with him and his siblings of death, darkness was unleashed upon the world tenfold.

"Only one who shared similar attributes to him would be able to land a fatal blow. . . And that's why the Holy Order needs you."

"I am no creature of darkness," Lynara whispered. "And this beast you speak of _isn't_ my father,"

"No," he agreed softly. "The creature I speak of isn't related to you by blood. But you share ties with him- distantly. Your father became a _Nosferatu_ due to this creature's siblings of darkness."

Fresh tears slid soundlessly down the woman's dark cheeks as her world shattered for the third time. Her whole body shook with pent up sorrow and dread as the realization came to her. And her worst nightmare was made real as she asked a question she already knew the answer to.

"The _Nosferatu_ who the Devil gave wings . . . The one you want me to kill. . . What is his name?"

Sea-green eyes sparked with nameless emotions as the Priest's lips formed into a single word.

". . . Dracula . . ."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Sorry for the sporadic updates guys, life has been crazy lately. Though hopefully this chapter was able to make up for the wait. ^^ Also for those of you that worried about me giving up on the story, be at ease. I'm gonna finish this one if it kills me. ;)

Special shout out to: **SamanthaJane13, (A Very Sad Guest), , alexc1209,Fanficqueen306, AnimeFan001, RavenHuffle, MEGUMthePENGUIN, Cloelius Princess, Madam Silver,** the several **guests** , **angelinyna7778, RoyalBlood18, EEstelle,** and my beloved Madame **Remember.**

Even though I don't have time to thank you all separately, please know that your comments mean the world to me and that I'm grateful. You are all very sweet, and I'm touched by the support this story has received.

So any thoughts, predictions, worries about this chapter? Hahah, sorry about the build up and cliff hanger! It couldn't be helped. lol

Until next chapter guys!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Dancing into the Night: Part Nineteen**

* * *

Lynara knew that tears were falling from her eyes, but she did nothing to hide them. For several minutes she was silent; thinking on all the nameless Priest had told her. Her chest visibly ached from all the warring emotions she was feeling. Both resentment and doubt filled her to the core.

She thought of her father, of the Church's hopes for her, and of the Count's terrible legacy.

It was all too much.

Her thoughts were racing and her emotions spun in a wild frenzy. Making her wonder if it would beat out of her chest all-together. But even as she felt the icy grip of fear clench at her sanity, Lynara found herself fighting back. In spite of all that she had lost, she was unable to give in. So she focused and sought to understand.

"If what you say is true," she began. "If my father _was_ a Nosferatu. . . What am _I?_ "

Sea-green eyes met chocolate brown, before the coarse, yet gentle voice answered her. "You are the human child of a vampire, my lady . . . A _Dhampir_."

"Dhampir?"

"It is the title given to your kind. You _are_ human, but you also are bound by traits of the undead."

Lynara's brow drew as her tears slowly tapered off. "How can that be possible, sir? How can a person be both alive and dead?"

"The specifics of the Dhampir's birth is still a mystery to me." He admitted this calmly, while letting his large hands rest, palms down, against his lap. "But I can explain the _gifts_ that you possess without too much trouble."

When the maid neither spoke nor moved from her seat in the pew, he continued.

"Dhampir are similar to Nosferatu. They have natural instincts that make them talented in both combat and persuasion techniques. And they live far longer than the average human. They can be fantastically agile and powerful: some have even been able to rival a full-fledged vampire in battle."

"And . . . What of the blood-lust?"

Lynara knew that he heard her unspoken words, hidden within the question.

 _Am I a monster?_

"A vampire's human child does not need the blood of others to sustain them." It was comforting news, but was short lived. "But that doesn't speak to your _own_ blood."

"What of my blood?"

For a long moment, the Priest studied her, his expression devoid of emotion, other than several clear lines about his eyes. They told her nothing, but she watched them anyway.

"How do you reckon, you survived a vampire attack? When you were so frail and injured?"

She frowned. "Y-You. . . You carried me from the Tavern. You _know_ how-"

"I did nothing before that time." He intervened firmly. "I played no part in saving you from the She-Demon's bite."

Lynara's brown orbs grew wide as his words struck her. Her face paling as she absently shook her head. The young woman had assumed that his man had killed Aleera in an effort to save her. He had taken care of her. . . and it had been a natural process of thought.

When Lynara had spoken with the red haired vampire in the Gray Crossroads, she had presumed that Aleera had lied about her demise. But now, the Bride's words once more echoed through her mind.

" _I tried to kill you. . . But in the end, it was_ _you_ _who destroyed_ _me_ _. . ."_

"I killed Aleera." Her voice shook with uncertainty, though it wasn't phrased as a question. "It was _me. . ._ But how could I?"

"Your blood, milady," came the simple reply. "It holds all the answers."

Lynara jumped as one of the giant hands laid upon her own. His skin was warm, unlike her clammy, frozen shell. It felt so different from Vladislaus's. . . it was so _human._

In spite of her fatigue, the maid held his hand tightly. It was the only comfort she had received since this conversation had started, and she couldn't help but cling to it.

No matter how dark his words were, or what past he could boast, the dark maid found that she trusted him. This _nameless, scarred_ Priest. She couldn't claim to know him, but he felt familiar somehow. He seemed . . . _safe_.

The Priest brought his other hand up to encase her smaller one, as he looked her directly in the eye.

"You poisoned her." Lynara gasped quietly, and her grip involuntarily stiffened at his declaration. "When a Nosferatu drinks the blood of your kind, it can be fatal for them. It reverses their condition and makes them human again. Though if they drink too much, it's immediate death."

He paused to gauge the woman's reaction before saying, "It is your greatest weapon and security. For thousands of years Dhampir have hunted vampires- passing out judgement, acting as neutralizers. They have the ability to grant new life, and end the presence of evil. . . It is to this purpose that the Holy Order needs you, my lady."

The dark maid was still for several seconds, before turning a dead gaze on him. Though she still kept her hand in his.

". . . You want me to poison Dracula . . . with my blood?"

He nodded once, making her stomach clench and a cold sweat form on her sickly brow.

"You are the only one that could get close enough to do it, my lady. He would be unable to sense what you are until it was too late."

Bile rose in Lynara's throat as the picture the Priest had painted fully manifested. Of a loving embrace- the Count kissing her gently in greeting, before burying his fangs deep into her flesh. . . and him falling in a mass of black cloth to his death.

She shook her head fiercely, both in disgust and to clear the tangible scene from her head. "N-No. . . _No."_

"Soon Dracula will be the only one to contend with." The nameless one confided. "The Holy Order has already sent another Hunter to deal with his remaining Brides. Once they are eradicated, only Dracul himself will be left."

His sea-green eyes bored into her, showing a surprising amount of empathy. "Just one feeding, my lady. . . One bite and you could save countless people from a horrible death."

"Would I save them, but not myself?" Lynara pulled her hand from the Priest's. "I am bound to him, and nothing you can say will change that."

The dark skinned woman once more regarded the unusual crucifix of silver and garnet. The red stones mocked the maid from the growing shadows- playing on her already desolate mind. Viciously reminding her of the Red Chamber and the final thing that kept her and the Count apart. She cursed the color red, and found her mouth moving to form words.

"You saved me from the flames, sir. And for that kindness, I would do my best to repay you. But I will _not_ do so by spilling more blood. Know now, that if this is what you would ask of me, that I must deny you."

The nameless one regarded her without hostility or disappointment. His posture stayed pliant and reserved, even as he bowed his scarred head to her.

"I will respect your wishes, my lady. And I would ask for no other payment, then the ability to teach you of your heritage."

Lynara had not known what to expect. But this newest request truly confused her.

"What of the Church?"

"My first duty is to guide the _Dhampir_ ," he said. "And I would prepare you, no matter what path you would choose to tread."

"I have no need of your teachings-" she began, but he cut her off.

"It is irrelevant where you go, or what life you decide to take for yourself. They will never stop hunting you. They will always find you and cause you great harm and distress. _Please_ , allow me to aid you. To teach you how to defend yourself, or effectively hide."

"Who would I be hiding from?" Her tone was slightly bitter as she studied him. "Nosferatu? Or the Holy Order?"

A sad expression flickered across his face as he answered her. "Both, my lady."

Shakily she inhaled, "I have no answer for you, Priest. . . Not tonight."

"Then pray and ponder on it," he beseeched. "You can tell me your decision when you are well."

The dark maid said nothing as the Priest gingerly led her back to her cot. Nor did she offer him any validation when he once more stacked the blankets atop her shivering form. She was blinded to him, as he went back to the pew to pray, and as he read the bible while muttering the passages in Latin. Her heart was too heavy to care. So she didn't.

And as time faded into the night and early hours, Lynara was taken by the loving arms of sleep, even as her tormented mind wept for all she had lost.

* * *

It was almost dawn, but no rays of sun rose on the horizon. Only the cold indifference of the first winter storm, and a night caked in _death._

From the greatest of heights, a solitary figure plummeted in a death spiral, wrapping its massive wings around itself in a cocoon, as it dropped almost violently. For minutes it fell out of time and memory- through aerial passages of the Carpathian Mountains that had never been discovered by man. All the while, the winds carelessly slammed the beast from all sides, before the midnight wings once more spread. A great gust caressed its underbelly, as the wind carried both the creature and the new snowfall deeper inland.

The snow rained down in countless flakes, making it almost impossible to see past one's nose. Though the creature never wavered. Not for an instant did the leathery beast second guess itself, as it shot through the frost towards its destination.

For a time, the imposing figure flapped and glided across the pale winter sky, before it finally soared down and landed on a stony alcove, cut from the mountain itself. And as it descended upon the stones, the bat-like being began to shift form. The leathery wings and larger body morphed into that of a man. Dark hair cascaded from seemingly nowhere, and stunning deep blue eyes sparked in the diluted morning.

He was _Nosferatu_.

He was _Dracula._

But for once, the night had been no friend to him. There was no joy to be taken from the beauty of the moon, or the howling of midnight winds. Nothing had greeted him that night, but emptiness and his own destruction.

It had been a week since his Storyteller's Tavern had been reduced to ashes. A full week of worrying and searching, and he had yet to find her.

For the first 6 days after she had disappeared, the vampire had soared over Budapest and the surrounding countryside, using all of his senses to find her. And he would have kept up his vigil for much longer, if on the seventh day (earlier that night) he hadn't been forced to endure _it_.

It had been as sudden as a lightning strike, and hurt just as much- causing him plummet from the sky in a scrambling of limbs and wings. He had landed on his feet, but had soon after dropped directly to his knees on the snow covered ground. Pain and fear had flooded him, and he roared as his conscious was split in two.

Just as Aleera had called to him through their shared link before her death- now Marishka and Verona cried to him.

It came from Marishka first.

Flashes of the small Transylvanian village in the shadow of Castle Frankenstein, and humans scattering like mice. Feelings of pride and childish contempt, before it turned into utter terror. Then in a single moment, he had felt a Holy Relic pierce his youngest brides' heart. For a second, she called to him across their bond- begging him to save her, to take it away. But just as quickly her dark presence shattered and wafted into oblivion, as if it had never existed.

It was in this moment that Dracula had fallen from the sky- as the loss of Marishka and anguish of Verona was shared with him tenfold.

For so many years, emotions had been unable to find him. But with the fatigued deprivation of Lynara's presence and the ancient blood-bond snapping, he could not block out his reaction. Or halt the line of bloody tears that ran down his pale face and stained the ever-white snow.

" _Verona_ ," he had immediately warned his last Bride with his mind. _"Return to the Castle!"_

" _Master, please! Master!"_

" _Return to Castle Dracula, my darling! Go now!"_

But his warning came too late.

Dracula had snarled as he shared in Verona's distress, as her attacker shot through her beautiful wings with several arrows. When her flesh burned and she was pinned against the side of a human hovel, it was clear that the weapons had been blessed with Holy Water.

" _Free yourself, Verona,"_ he commanded, his blue eyes seeing with clarity everything that was happening to her. But even as he said it, he knew it was in vain. She was not strong enough. The blessed water had not only pinned her, but had weakened her supernatural strength. She was trapped.

" _Master!"_ Verona wailed, even as the human hunter raised his strange crossbow and took aim at her heart. " _MASTER!"_

He reached out in an attempt to soothe her, but they both knew there was nothing more to be done.

Time seemed to stand still as the Count watched his last bride's death. The bolt that skewered her heart, made him hiss in pain, before hissing her name.

She had mentally clung to him, even as her body withered and decayed. And just before her link with him shattered forever, she granted him a single image. A face. The face of her killer.

Dracula's mouth had curved into a ferocious barring of his teeth, as recognition flashed before his unnaturally glowing eyes.

This hunter who had killed his brides was _no_ stranger. The hat and clothing had been different. But the face and eyes were exactly as he remembered.

The Church's left hand and greatest warrior had come to Romania.

As he mourned his Sirelings in the blotted snow, Dracula had felt his anger cool into a deadly frost. Whispering and writhing from the depths of his resolve.

" _. . ._ Hello _Gabriel_. . ."

*0*0*0*

It had only been several hours since Verona and Marishka had faded. But in that small amount of time, the Count had flown back to Transylvania. And as he now landed on the familiar parapet of Castle Dracula, the vampire found himself thankfully glacial. After some time of flying and planning, the foreign feelings of agony had dissipated and he was once more himself. He was a well-practiced strategist and the Master of the Carpathians. The murderer had nowhere he could hide.

The cold calculation had replaced his earlier sentiment completely- aside from the worry for his human. And though his Storyteller was still his first priority, he now had a second goal in mind.

It had been 450 years since he'd seen Gabriel's face. He had thought him to be long dead. But it seemed he wasn't the only supernatural creature to emerge out of this universal struggle. The Church had finally stepped up to match him in power. Throwing their valiant pawn into the fight. It was a smart move, and one that he vowed to discredit.

He had been away from Castle Dracula for too long. His greatest strength laid in the ancient prison that he now called home. His source of darkness was here; locked away in every stone and crevice. It matched his heart as it now laid in his hollow chest- blackened and rotting and without mercy.

Vladislaus stalked forward, faster than a human eye could perceive, through the corridors. His feet tread the path by memory alone, never giving an inch of hesitation as he found his way past the countless sacks that held his undead young.

At the sickening reminder of his failure, the vampire grimaced. It had all ended. His plans and wishes. All crushed by the man who had murdered him 450 years ago. And brought him to the Crossroads where he had met the Devil himself.

His rebirth, his fight against the Holy Order, even his decision to take his three beautiful Brides as Sirelings, had all been for a sole purpose. With a single goal in sight.

 _Family._

It was what he wanted. What he longed for in his endless nighttime's, when the world slumbered and he was alone with his thoughts.

 _Children._ _ **My**_ _Children. My_ _ **life**_ _. . . ._

It haunted him, as nothing else could.

The face of a dark haired little boy, running up to greet him, with a smile to rival the gaiety of the stars.

Vladislaus never broke his stride, but internally he shied from the image. For 450 years he had tried to forget, but his perfect memory hadn't allowed him to have peace.

His son. His little _Anghel_. Not more than four years old; covered in blood and tears as Transylvania was invaded. As the Holy Order and his Valerious Father stood by and watched. . . as he lost everything.

Dracula closed his ancient blue eyes as the memory replayed again and again. It was why he had tried to procreate with his Brides. To once more embrace that feeling that he had experienced so long ago. To protect someone worth protection. To no longer be numbed to it all.

And so he had tried with Victor Frankenstein and his Hell-bound Brides. And he was unsuccessful.

He had failed to bring his undead children to life. Failed to save Marishka and Verona, or stop Aleera from her fate. And he had failed to find his beautiful Storyteller . . .

 _Lynara. . . my Lynara._

His beautiful little Lynara.

He would find her. He would not allow her to be lost, like the rest. If need be, he would murder any man who got in his way.

Finally, Vladislaus stopped his large stride- coming to stand within a great chamber. At one time, it had been a normal bedroom. But now, only an empty coffin made of iron stood.

Assuredly, the Nosferatu climbed into the gaping metal box, as his intent eyes focused on the high stoned ceiling.

If he could not find his human by a physical search, he would locate her by _other_ means. If she had passed on to Heaven or Hell, there was only one way to be sure.

If Lynara had walked along the Crossroads, he would know it. But if she hadn't, he would try to reach out to her with his mind. In the time they had spent together, he had become familiar with her aura and scent. He would call out to her mind, and find her through her dreams.

Her worldly trail had gone cold. And this would be his last chance at finding her.

So with a deep, calming breath, Vladislaus closed his eyes and fell into slumber- immediately encasing himself in a shell of pure ice.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Wow, this chapter took forever! I rewrote it so many times! I just don't know. lol

 _ *******_ I know last chapter was a bit rough around the edges, and this one is too. But after building up a plot and twists for so long, it's kinda hard for me to carry it out. I'm doing my best, but I've never tackled a story this intricate before. I'm a bit daunted by it, but I'm trying my best. Hopefully you all can still enjoy the story. I'm trying to answer all the questions, but it's taking set up and time. I do apologize for my short chapters. _*******_

Anyway, Dracula's back! I know that we've all missed him! I thought I would give you guys a glimpse of what he's going through, as well as a bit of his past. ^^ I totally took liberties, but I'm not sorry. Hahaha!

Special thanks to: **Kennawenna722, AnimeFan001, alexc1209, PhantomOfWriting** (welcome aboard, my dear), **DraculasBride22, Cloelius Princess, Fanficqueen306, RavenHuffle, EEstelle,** and my dear Madame **Remember!**

Any thoughts or guesses for next chapter or the info that was revealed? As always, I love hearing from you guys!

Until next chapter!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	20. Chapter 20

**Dancing into the Night: Part Twenty**

* * *

When Dracula once more opened his eyes, he was surrounded by the familiar billowing gray of the Crossroads. Each day, when the sun rose and he was forced to retreat to the darkness, he would come here. The monochrome fog of the 'between' had become a second home to him, and he now strode through it without hesitation. There was no fear for him. Not here, among those who had died or who lived as he did. After nearly 450 years of traversing the hidden pathways of Limbo, the vampire had long since lost his wonderment over it. So he didn't waste time on the countless faces that passed him to their judgement, or the beckoning Gray mist that seemed to call to him with every step.

Instead, Dracula reached out with his mind, focusing on the little details. There was only one thing he cared about. Only one person in this massive throng who he sought above all others. One woman who had made him remember how it felt to lo ve- to care. . .

His beautiful little Storyteller.

. . . His Lynara. . .

For the longest time, he couldn't find her. Desperately, the Nosferatu shifted through the sea of spirits, struggling to find the familiar essence of his human. His brow crinkled in both despair and worry as he failed time and time again. He shifted through the aura's that surrounded him frantically, fighting to glimpse something familiar in each he passed. But time and time again, when he thought he had detected her, it would prove to be somebody else. Time and again he was disappointed.

Until finally, he felt his ambition dwindle almost entirely- the raw agony of defeat hitting him harder than anything he could recall. But just as he was about to cease his search . . . he found her.

For a breath, he couldn't believe it, and almost passed her by completely. But as her soul pulsated before his wearied gaze, Dracula knew that it was in fact _her_.

He stood several feet away from her now, his hand unknowingly reaching out, as he called her name. He dared to hope. And as she turned to look at him with her deep brown eyes, he felt a shaky gasp escape him.

She was still as beautiful as he remembered, or even _more so_ than he had recalled. Though it was obvious that she had suffered greatly since their last moments together.

Lynara now wore the pearl colored robes of the Crossroads, marking her as one caught between life and death. Her face was gaunt and her gaze mournful. Her posture was weak, and her right arm was covered by what appeared to be a bandage cloth. She was haggard, and it was more than a little disturbing to the vampire, as he gazed upon her.

But as she turned to regard him, all of his thoughts instantly melted away to a single burning where his heart should have been. Feeling shot across his frozen body, bringing a strange tingling to his finger tips and nerve-endings. His regular numbness of being undead, fading into the background, as he delighted in the sensations. This had been his reaction to the woman, since he'd first laid eyes on her, but now after fearing that he had lost her, his receptivity was quite overwhelming.

For a breath, they merely stared at one another, before his little Storyteller began to weep and whispered his name in disbelief. Her broken tears spurred him forward. He reached her in a breath, before his arms were wrapping around her smaller frame in a desperate embrace. And as he encircled her fully, Vladislaus felt tears of his own begin to slide down his pale cheeks. Utter relief enveloped him, as Lynara's heartbeat thrummed in his ears.

She had _survived_.

His little Lynara was still alive!

* * *

Lynara had cried more in the last few days, than she had ever thought possible. But now as the Count held her tenderly, she could say without a doubt, that her tears had never been more desperate or sincere than now. She could hardly believe that he was actually there. The maid had longed for the moment for so long, that it had seemed that it would never actually happen.

"I'm dreaming. . . I _know_ that I am . . ." she wept bitterly, as she gravely clung to his clothing.

In all her life, the maid had never been clingy or one to share her emotions. But never before had she felt such a dark and pressing need. In the center of her soul, a sorrowful tearing had started when she had awoken to find Vladislaus gone. And now that he stood before her, the ebbing intensified into borderline painful convulsions that wracked her entire body. It was more than enough for her knees to give out, and she fell, with Vladislaus following her.

They collapsed together, and he never loosened his hold on her; even as their knees planted on the wispy, non-existent ground. It made him draw her closer- and for once he was unable to hold back the force behind his actions. His fingertips of steel dug into her flesh hidden beneath her otherworldly robes, and she gasped as he buried his nose into her hair. He took in her scent like a dying man, holding his loved one for the last time. And for several minutes he was silent, before he answered her. His voice was hoarse as he spoke, and deep with emotion as he openly cried.

"If we _are_ dreaming, my Lynara, I would never wish to wake."

In all the time that she had known the Count, the maid had never once seen him shed tears. But now she could feel them rolling down her neck. They were thick and warm as they pattered against her flesh, and she found that they matched her own tears in shade and composition.

Vladislaus cried human tears here in the Crossroads, and she could almost imagine that his heart thrummed beneath her fingers as he cradled her close.

 _Almost_.

For a long time, the two clung to one another- both tearful as the gray writhed around them on all sides. It seemed as if an eternity had passed since they'd last beheld each other. It'd only been a week since they'd said their goodbyes on the stoop of the Tavern. A single week. But in that short amount of time, _everything_ had changed. There was no more innocence or bliss. Only the varying shades of gray that floated in the crevices of two darkened souls.

Slowly, Lynara's crying tapered off, as did the Counts. Until only the haunting silence of the Crossroads lingered. For several minutes after her weeping had subsided, the woman continued to cling to the vampire. Her fists clenched his garments, horribly creasing the soft cloth, before she forced herself to pull away from his chest to look at him. It was the first time she'd truly looked at him, in the Crossroads, and the sight surprised her.

He was the same, and yet _not._ He was still strong in stature and bearing, but he appeared more _human_ than ever before. His eyes held a range of emotions, and his complexion wasn't quite so pale as it had always seemed. The vampire's hair, usually worn up in the dragon clasp, now hung free about his face; a midnight curtain of elegant, soft silk. And the normally golden rings in his ears were now a flickering silver against his lobes.

The robes Dracula wore matched Lynara's. The cloth was the supplest that the woman had ever touched, and shone the brightest pearl and white. It was so different from the black he always wore, that for a moment, he appeared to be a Fallen Angel from the very Heavens themselves. But Lynara knew better. He was no Angel. . . But then again, neither was she.

". . . Vladislaus," she whispered after staring at him for another minute. She reached up to cup his face with her hands, as the reality hit her. He was here with her. There was no questioning it now.

Never before had she been the one to initiate such intimacy. But after fearing that she would never see him again, her subdued nature was all but forgotten, as she began to place small kisses about his face: his cheeks and chin and forehead, everything within her reach.

The vampire sighed and closed his eyes as she peppered him with kisses. But when she ceased her attention, the deep blue orbs slid open to regard her once again. He gently took ahold of her hands, and cocooned them in his own- basking in her warmth and the dancing of her blood in her veins. He hadn't eaten in days, but surprisingly his appetite wasn't tormenting him as he listened to her heart waltz in her chest.

"Where have you been?" She asked. Her voice shook around the edges as she fought her emotions to stay in check. "Where did you go, Vladislaus?"

"I searched everywhere, Lynara, and I could not find you." He seemed perturbed by this fact, as the lines of his brow crinkled. "I thought perhaps. . . that I had lost you for eternity."

Lynara's brown eyes shifted anxiously as she shook her head. "I thought I had lost you too. Just like everyone else. . . The Tavern. My sisters. . . It's all gone now. . . _All_ gone. . ."

Dracula placed a tender kiss to her curls, in a way of comfort. "I came in time to witness the ashes. . . Please, Lynara. You must tell me what happened, my darling."

"I _cannot_ -" She couldn't turn the horrors she'd faced into words. It was still too much and too fresh. Which the Count seemed to realize, as he soothingly leaned to place his forehead against her own.

"If you cannot tell me, then _show_ me, my love."

"But how?"

"Open your mind to me, and I will be able to see for myself," he explained as his nose brushed against hers encouragingly. "All you have to do is let me in."

The dark maid was uneasy with the idea at first, but after a moment, she forced herself to take a deep breath and cleared her mind.

His presence was surprisingly subtle in her conscious. It wafted and hung at the corners- not intrusive or painful in the least. It was almost as if he was leaving soft caresses on her wearied thoughts. And the balm of his essence made the woman smile for the first time in what felt like years. Even after everything, the Count was still the same. He was as gentle and reassuring as before, and it compelled her heart to soar.

"Share your memories with me, Lynara," he coaxed tenderly. "Share your pain with me, so that we can face it together."

Lynara squeezed his hand for her own benefit, before she began to show him all that had occurred after he'd left. She replayed Aleera's attack and confrontation, as well as the conversation she had shared here at the Crossroads with the She-Demon. It was here, that the maid slowly shut him out, once more returning to the present as she felt her heart once more grow heavy.

"Aleera was only one of three wives," Lynara said finally- unable to look at the vampire as she retracted from him completely. " _Your_ three wives, Count."

She exhaled shakily before continuing, never once looking at him while she spoke, lest she lose her nerve.

"You never should have looked at me, when you were married to another woman. Let _alone_ three. . . Was I to be your whore? Your dalliance on the side to amuse you?" Though she said it calmly, the anguish behind her words was visible.

"Lynara-"

"I am not one to share, Count," she continued. "After our first meeting in the Red Chamber. After I shied away from _any_ advances you made because of my past. . . Did you really think I would be willing to be the fourth woman to call you husband?"

" _No_ ," came the sincere reply. Dracula's eyes were dark, though he didn't fight what she said. "You were never meant to be the fourth."

"Then what was I?" She needed to know. "What have I been to you all this time?"

"You are _my mate_ , Lynara. Which set you apart from the others from the beginning."

"A mate who you should have left alone," she said as her heart rose in her throat. "You weren't free. So why did you drag me into this? . . . Aleera was right all along. . . I _am_ a whore and homewrecker."

"You _are_ not," Dracula hissed, his eyes briefly blazing red at the insinuation. Though his anger faded almost immediately as he looked at the broken woman before him. "Will you allow me to explain myself, before you jump to any more conclusions, Lynara? Will you give me that much?"

The maid was still for a long time, before she gave a single nod. She had no intention to interrupt him, for she craved the truth like nothing else.

Dracula thanked her before he solemnly began.

"It is true that I had three Brides when I first found you. But the particulars of this matter are not as clear as you may believe. None of the unions I had were officiated or brought to fruition. I am _Nosferatu_ \- so your ideas of marrying do not coincide with my own.

"I shared a bed with them, and taught them the attributes of their new lives- this is true. But I never swore my allegiance or love to them. They were my undead children- my sirelings in death. But as far as matters of loyalty and the heart are concerned, you are my first and _only_ bride."

Silent tears once more littered Lynara's face as she listened to the Count. She had never considered the truth of a vampire's union- though now that she deliberated on it, there could be no true marriage. . .

"It doesn't change the fact that you kept the truth from me," Lynara said. "You had three women that you lived with. Even if weren't bound by marriage, you should have left them before you ever attempted to grow close to me!"

"I am aware of this," he replied. "But my moral compass isn't as steady as yours, my dear. . ." Then he said, "I had plans to leave them, once you made your decision, Lynara. So I didn't feel the need to tell you."

"You _still_ haven't left them," Lynara pointed out bitterly. "Aleera is gone, but the other two still remain."

Dracula shook his dark head, making the black locks pool about his defined face. "They _do not_."

"What? . . . What do you mean?"

"My two other brides: Marishka and Verona are gone." He sounded tired as he clarified. "A hunter killed them not long after Aleera perished. I am alone now, my dear. There is no one else in my heart, or existence."

Lynara's eyes showed her shock at the news, as the Nameless Priest's words rang out in her mind.

" _. . . The Holy Order has already sent another Hunter to deal with his remaining Brides. Once they are eradicated, only Dracul himself shall remain. . ."_

"They are dead?"

"An old _acquaintance_ took the liberty of killing them," came the emotionless reply. "I am the last of my line now."

Lynara was quiet, as she fought to come to terms with all the differing thoughts and feelings that were building within her. Though as she felt a cold hand come to rest on her own, she was unable to keep her eyes away from the Count's, as he looked at her earnestly.

"I know that I have hurt you, my beautiful one," he said. Regret clouded his eyes and voice as he held her hand carefully in his own. "But I would ask you to give me a chance to redeem myself in your eyes. I will do anything to regain your trust."

Lynara paled as she clenched his hand tightly and spoke her thoughts aloud. "I love you Vladislaus. . . that fact cannot be altered or ruined no matter how dark a life you've led. . . But you must move on, Count. . . You must forget about me completely."

"I could never leave you, my Lynara. . . Never again. Not after I've found you."

"You don't have a choice," she said through sentimental tears. "I cannot bear to lose you. I have lost everyone else I hold dear. Not you too. . ."

"No one could separate us, my darling," he comforted as he gave her a small smile, and lifted her chin. "Not even in death would we be parted. I would find my way back to you. You _must_ believe in that."

"I do," she said sorrowfully. "But that doesn't change anything. You must leave me behind and move forward. A new life, Vladislaus, for both of us."

Dracula shook his head, the familiar fire growing in his deep blue eyes again. "I will not. Tell me where you are, Lynara."

"No."

"You _must_ tell me," he urged, steadfast and unwilling to bend.

For a long while, Lynara was still, before she broke down. "They want meto _kill you_ , Vladislaus! You cannot come here! They want you _dead_ and they will use me to do it!"

His dark brow lifted briefly against his paled skin. The answer had clearly not been what he'd expected.

". . . If that is what they would ask of you, they obviously don't know you, little one."

"No," she agreed. "But they expect it all the same. . . Please, Count, if you come, they will take you away from me- to a place I cannot follow."

As the gray mist swirled around them, Dracula studied the woman carefully as she pled. His focus was unrelenting, as he asked, "How is it, that you are meant to murder me, my storyteller?"

"My blood," she faded out as she saw the confusion in his deep blue eyes. He didn't know the truth about her. The vampire had no guile or hidden knowledge about her lineage, that much was certain. And it broke her heart just a little more.

"What of your blood? Did they force you to drink Holy Water or prick yourself with Wild Roses, to keep me at bay?"

Lynara shook her head, despite noting that wild roses and blessed water _were_ deterrents for a Nosferatu.

"They say it is poisonous to your kind. . . That Aleera died because of my blood. I have no memory of her passing. I wasn't conscious. . . She drank from me while the Tavern was burning, and my blood saved my life . . . It's almost like it's . . . _alive._ "

Dracula's expression melted into one of pure astonishment, his eyes shining with unbridled apprehension as a strange look settled on his handsome face.

" _ **Sunteți un Dhampir**_ . . ." He pondered on this, and Lynara watched as it all clicked into place for him. All the missing pieces of the puzzle finally met to display a painting, though it wasn't of something elegant or beautiful. Oh no. It was bright red and soaked into everything, as it had done since the beginning of their story. Death was always there, and now they both understood _why._

 _"_ Your father was Nosferatu, as am I."

It wasn't a question but she replied anyway. "Yes. . . It's the reason that the Church had my mother stoned, and why they took me in. They knew what I was, and wanted to keep an eye on me. They wanted to train me so I'd be their personal vampire slayer."

". . . How did you come by this insight?" Dracula asked, as he studied her intently.

"The Holy Order sent someone to rescue me. A Priest . . . he is the one who saved me from the fire, and who guards me now."

Dracula's eyes flashed red for the briefest of moments, as the Church was mentioned. And his grip on her tightened ever so slightly from where he held her gently. It was clear that the information troubled him, but his voice was even as he asked, " _Where_ are you, Lynara? Where has this Priest taken you?"

"Please don't! This is what they want!"

"Do you really think a simple Priest could harm me?" There was a dangerous tone to his voice; an almost wicked humor rose in his expression as he stared at the woman.

"He _knows_ you, Vladislaus and he wants you _dead_ ," she returned solemnly. "And you can't guarantee that he wouldn't hurt you. So you _must_ _not_ seek me out. You must stay well away, until _I_ can flee on my own."

At her claim that the Priest knew him, a hint of recognition sparked in the _Nosferatu's_ vivid blue eyes. Though it was quickly replaced by contempt and the beginnings of what could have been fear.

"A Priest who would tutor a _Dhampir. . ._ He has taken you to a Holy Place. . . Somewhere I would not be able to sense your presence . . . Somewhere he would think you'd be sheltered from me. . ."

The realization that crossed him was unmistakable.

"Vladislaus, _no_! Please! Don't do this! I will come to you!"

But he was already pulling her closer so that they're noses were almost touching. " _I_ _am_ coming for _you_ , my Lynara. _**Wait for me**_."

Then he captured her lips with his own. Compared to the other kisses they had shared; it was liquid fire. The passion he introduced with the simple contact made the woman swoon, as her skin temperature rose and her pulse hammered in her own ears. He was demanding and unrelenting, and Lynara struggled to match him- unable to pull away or beg him to be careful. And as he gently nuzzled her nose with his own, and nipped at her bottom lip affectionately, he disappeared into thin air, leaving Lynara alone in the Crossroads once more. Almost as if he'd never been there to begin with.

For a time, Lynara stayed in the Gray on her own, thinking of what was to come. Before she closed her eyes and felt the growing pull and weight in her limbs. Then, she flew back from the otherworldly shores- once again to wake as her eyes opened to the real world.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Crazy, crazy chapter guys. Just. . . Just goodness! XD

 _ **Sunteți un Dhampir**_ translates to _**You are a Dhampir**_ in Romanian. Or at least that's what Google Translate said. XDDD

I hope you all enjoyed the reunion! I tried to mix up the angst with some proper romance. I don't know if I succeeded, but at least I strove for it. Hahaha!

I would like to thank everyone who has given me encouragement lately for this story. I have gone through a rough patch with my writing the last couple of months, so I truly appreciate the wonderful comments and love you've all given me. I cannot express how much I love and care about you all!

In particular I would like to thank Madame _**Remember**_ and _**EEstelle**_. Without their insights, respect for the story, and help this chapter would have taken a lot longer to produce. So thank you my beautiful ladies! I owe ya one! ;)

 _ *** * * Special shout out to:**_

 **Supernatural4life** (I'm glad you enjoyed it!)

 **Madam Silver** (welcome back, my dear!)

 **Fanficqueen306** ( Glad I could surprise you with the Dhampir bit, dearie! )

 **alexc1209** (I won't spoil, but I don't think anyone could brainwash Lynara at this point. She's been through way too much. ;) )

 **RavenHuffle** (You are so sweet! Thank you so much for the lovely comment! I'm glad that Dracula's POV last chapter was enjoyable to you!)

 **Ele** (welcome aboard, my dear! I'm honored that you are enjoying the story so much)

 **PhantomOfWriting** (thank you so much for reading and commenting! If I can give you a summer/smoothie effect while reading, I must be doing something right!)

 **Kennawenna722** ( Sorry about the suspense love!)

 **AnimeFan001** (thanks for cheering me on, my dear!)

 _Madame_ **Remember** ( Dear, Remember. . . Where to begin. You are truly an inspiration and amazing friend. I always am so flattered by your comments and insights. Without you, I don't think this story would be half as long, or as detailed. Thank you so much for always taking the time! 3 )

So any predictions, thoughts, impression this chapter? I'm excited to see what yall think! :D

See you all next chapter!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	21. Chapter 21

**Dancing into the Night: Part Twenty-One**

* * *

It was quite early when Lynara drifted back from the Crossroads, though she had no idea as to an exact time of day. As her chocolate orbs flashed open, they slid to the pew and crucifix on the far side of the room. Though they remained untouched, the Priest was nowhere in sight. The young woman took her time to rise from the cot she'd slept in, forcing herself not to stretch. Her body was still sore from her encounter with Aleera, and pushing herself too far would be counterproductive on her part.

After taking several minutes to fully awaken and stand from the cold stone floor, Lynara reached down to wrap one of the lighter covers around herself. Since she was dressed in only a nightgown, it was impossible to remain modest or keep out the chill. She draped the patchwork blanket about her shoulders like a shawl, before she moved towards the large door on the other side of the chamber. The maid had promised to give her rescuer an answer to his proposition, and she intended to oblige him. After seeing Vladislaus again, it was apparent what she needed to do. . . though she was unsure if she would be strong enough for it.

 _You must do this,_ she chided herself, as she crossed into a dark corridor. _If you do not stand now, you shall forever be at another's mercy. . . There is no more choice or thoughts. There can only be action._ The dark woman squared her shoulders, as she made up her mind. She had deliberated long and hard after the Count had left her in the Gray Shores. And she had reached her own conclusions. . . Now she only had to execute it.

Outside the chamber she had slept in, the hall was dark and foreboding. Where there had been candles, there was now nothing. No lamps lit this hallway, and only the faintest shimmer of natural light could be spotted coming through a door at the end of the passage. Without shoes, and with the instant cold that enveloped her as she stood in the arch of the doorway, Lynara felt fear flicker over her. She had no inkling as to what resided at the end of the hall, nor as to what she would find. . . And yet, she found herself walking out to meet the darkness. Each footstep resounded in the silence, reminding her of her own movements, as her bare feet pattered against the cobblestones. She counted each placement of her feet as she crept towards the glimpse of light at the end of the long walk.

Lynara's flesh crawled from the chill, as well as her apprehension, as she came to stop at the far end. She didn't know what would happen now, but she had to meet it head on. She knew what she must do, and she _would_ do it.

With a deep breath to center herself, the young maid reached for the latch and retreated from the corridor.

* * *

Lynara's breath caught in her throat as the door swung wide. Where she had imagined another chamber, she was met with a pale periwinkle sky and an overgrown garden. The young woman gasped at the unexpected development, and watched as a cloud wafted from her mouth into the air.

When she had last been outside, the world had been painted in the shades of Autumn. But now, all had been canvassed in the white of winter. The first snow had long since settled upon the ground, and now all was still. The world had already begun its hibernation for the long cold months ahead. No birds or animals called out in the ashen, morning light- the silence was almost overwhelming in its magnitude- and yet, Lynara found herself savoring it. After nearly being burned alive, the frozen grasp of winter was nothing short of a Godsend to the woman. Without another thought, she walked out into the courtyard. Her bare feet grew numb as she strolled through the snow, her cheeks gaining color as she embraced the cold. Along countless vines and bushes, little stones stood at attention. The marble and sometimes wood monuments stood out in the frosty courtyard. It only took the maid a moment to realize that they were gravestones.

"Careful, milady. Or you will catch your death."

Lynara lifted her gaze to catch sight of the Priest. His voice, as deep and hoarse as ever, was kind and held genuine concern. She was grateful for it, even as she brushed it aside.

"If I am to die from cold, so be it. I must breathe the air, sir. . . I had never thought I would be able to do so again."

Sea-green eyes observed her before he nodded his agreement. "In the very least, will you sit?" One of his large hands moved from the depths of his robes to gesture towards the bench where he was resting, several feet away.

Lynara moved towards the bench without a word, before she sat next to him. She lifted her feet to tuck them underneath her shift, and wrapped the makeshift shawl around her tighter. For a time, the Priest and Maid kept quiet, before Lynara broke it.

"I have considered your proposition, sir."

He gave her his undivided attention, before a knowing expression crossed his scarred face. "You needn't say. I am already aware of your answer, my lady."

"You are. . .?"

"I knew from the moment that I asked you to kill Dracula that you would refuse." Came the calm reply, making the woman once more wonder at his motives.

"If you knew my answer, then why did you take the time to ask?"

He lifted his sea-green orbs to the winter sky, as a strange gleaming shone through them. It was almost as if he was seeing something beyond her view. . . Something _otherworldly._

"You were my last chance to restore what has been lost. . . But after seeing you with _him,_ I knew you could never bring yourself to take his life."

Lynara's face remained impassive, though her confusion was undeniable. Since she had met him, this nameless man had spoken in nothing but riddles. Each answer he gave had the habit of fading into more questions. It was downright maddening. But despite her anxious thoughts, the dark maid was externally relaxed.

"What loss could make you wish for another person's demise?" She wondered as she wrapped her arms around her legs. The position almost made her look like a child- innocent and ready for a story. . . A story which he seemed almost willing to tell.

"You have come in near the conclusion of an arduous tale," he said. "My want for his demise has stemmed only from his own evil deeds and choices. It was never my wish for it to end this way. . ."

The Priest was lost to his memories for a moment, before he was brought back by a warm hand taking his own. Lynara's palm was calloused from a lifetime of labor, but there was still softness there. The contact was gentle, pleading- as were her words.

"Please, sir. . . Won't you tell me? . . . I wish to understand."

"Do you?"

She dipped her head in the affirmative. "You saved my life. . . And while I will not be able to grant you what you desire most, I would wish to know _why_ , all the same. . ."

For the longest time, the Priest didn't move or speak. His brow furrowed with thought as he debated what she had said, until finally, he agreed.

"Not here," was the simple command. "You must eat and get warm, milady. . . If you will come back inside, I will disclose everything to you."

Lynara was comfortable outside in the tranquility of the snowy graveyard, yet she found herself returning with the Priest. His story was worth returning indoors. . . for once he had divulged it, her time with him would be over. . . The maid vowed to make the best of her time with her rescuer, and took his arm when it was offered. Not thinking twice as he closed the courtyard door behind them, she let him lead her back into the familiar chamber. Though troubling enough, it had escaped her notice that he had locked the door behind them.

* * *

It was sometime later that the two finally found themselves comfortable again. To the woman's surprise, the Priest had been cooking a rabbit long before she'd awoken. So they sat before the strange silver and garnet crucifix once more, with steaming bowls of the quaint rabbit stew, as the afternoon rolled 'round.

He had promised to explain himself if she would eat and get warm. So, as a sign of good faith, Lynara lifted her wooden spoon to her chapped lips and took her first mouthful of the broth. The flavor of carrots and rabbit meat made her taste buds hum, and she sighed as the warmth traveled down her throat. She could feel it go down to her belly, and it was then that she realized she hadn't eaten in several days.

The Priest watched her eat several bites before he joined her. Either he had manners, or he didn't trust his own cooking.

They continued to enjoy the meal in unhurried silence, and when they were both finished, the man took their empty bowls and spoons away to the kitchen. Lynara had yet to see it, but she had promised to be patient, so she didn't follow him as he went to clean up.

Standing up, the maid crossed over to stand before the strange Holy Relic, her dark brown eyes studying it curiously as she reached out to let the tips of her fingers trace the Latin inscription. The Prayer for a Happy Death. . . Why would someone ever place such a dark topic to such a precious item?

" _O Domine, Defende nos ab omni iniquitate. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem a tenebris. Quod ultimum tempus ut beati simus. . . . Ut defendere usque ad lucem.."_

Lynara knew that the Priest was watching her again, as he read the inscription. She found herself translating what he had said, as she turned to face him.

"Oh Lord. . . Protect us from all evil. Lead us from temptation and darkness. That our final moments may be blessed. . . That we may defend the Light. . . until the end."

"Amen," he offered, as a strange light came to grace the vivid sea-green. "I see the teachings of your youth are not entirely forgotten."

"Gone yes, but never forgotten." She smiled tiredly, before reaching out to take the man's large hands into her own. She led them to the pew before she continued. "Why would you have such a dark prayer upon your Relic?"

"It was given to me, along with my mission," he replied, as he allowed her to hold onto his hands. Though he didn't remove them, it was clear that he was unaccustomed to being touched. For a moment he thought, before he began his tale, just as he had promised.

"Do you know where we are, my lady?"

"Some kind of abbey or desolate church?"

He shook his head, his freckled, scarred skin looking paler in the flickering light of the candelabra. "This was once a special house. . . Meant for those of your kind."

"M-My kind?" Lynara felt her heart flip anxiously. "You mean _. . . Dhampir?"_

"Yes, milady," came the stoic answer. "Years ago, many Dhampir came here to train in the Holy Ways, to fight evil and defend the Light. . . But as time passed, they died out. And with their extinction, this asylum has decayed as well."

"So the tombstones in the courtyard-?"

"Are your fallen brothers and sisters, my lady."

The thought was hard to grasp, but Lynara tried.

"Are you a Dhampir, as well?"

"No," he said, making Lynara let go of the breath she'd been holding. "But I _am_ the reason they exist."

The severity of his statement made her flesh run cold. Her hair stood on edge, as she slowly let go of his hands. She said not a word, as she regarded him, and after a time he spoke again. His voice, so coarse and ill-used, was soft and exact as he wove his tale, and Lynara found herself transported to another time and place. As it all unfolded, her mind relived the details he offered, until she herself was a part of it.

"My story began 450 years ago. . . but I suppose I must explain even before then. I was born the bastard son of a Holy Knight who was also the Voivode of Wallachia- or the land now known as Romania. I was spared from death due to my father's prestige and high ranking in the Order of the Dragon. The Order was a branch of Holy Rome, meant to fight all evil and defeat the Ottoman Empire and all enemies of the Church. My father and half-brother alike made awe-inspiring reputations for themselves on the battlefield.

"I was raised in my father's Abbey, where the Holy Brothers taught me day and night to become a man of the cloth. It was to counteract the adulterous events that lead to my birth. I was hidden and kept secret from the world, save for my father and the Brothers of the Abbey. . . Though in the end, I came to rely upon my half-brother more than anything. Our father tried to keep us apart, but my brother was always strong-spirited and found ways to come and visit me in the Monastery almost daily. We grew together and loved each other well, as any siblings should. We both grew into fine men, with my brother ascending to rule and becoming the rightful Voivode, and myself becoming a Priest.

"My brother was forced to marry a Hungarian noblewoman, the Countess Bathory, who bore him a single son. He had no love for his wife, but that child meant everything to him. The two of them would come and visit me every Sunday for Mass and then to confess any sins before we shared a meal. It was a happy time in my life. . . But it was not meant to last. . . .

"In the year 1462 the Ottoman Empire struck hard, invading most of Romania. My brother fought their advances nobly and held out for almost a full year. He called upon the Holy Order for reinforcements in his time of need, and sent word to our father for aid. But the Church considered it a hopeless cause, and never came.

"The Ottomans stormed my brother's castle while he was fighting elsewhere. They murdered all in their path, including his wife and four year old son. . . When my brother returned to the castle, he was a different man. Lost to grief and the betrayal of our father, he rallied all those remaining to drive the Ottomans out permanently. The final battle was overall won, with the enemy retreating to lick their wounds, but it cost my brother his life. He was killed, and despite his efforts to save Wallachia, he was disgraced for not heeding the Church's command to abandon Romania."

The Priest stopped for a long moment, his eyes misty as he relived the horrible past. Lynara's heart went out to him, as she waited for him to finish. Once more she took his hand as a way of comfort, and to her surprise he held it fast.

"As the dust settled on the battlefield, I ran through the piles of corpses to find my brother." The sea-green eyes showed the sorrow that he must have felt at the time. "For hours I searched the destruction, until I found him. . . I brought him back to the Abbey where we had grown up together, and prepared to bury him. . . But as I placed him on the altar to pray over his remains. . . he awoke."

"W-What?" Once more, Lynara's blood ran cold.

"He awoke with eyes blazing red, and the heart of a demon. He killed all the Holy Brothers in the Abbey, before he left to find our father and murder him as well. He spared me, only for the past we shared. . . But it would have been better if he had killed me in that moment.

"My brother had given into the Devil's whispers, and had become a being of the night. And if my father hadn't been so deeply involved with the Holy Order, he surely would have perished. But with the Grace of Light, he was able to banish my brother from our world to an Icy Fortress, where he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone."

"But how can this be true," Lynara wondered. "You speak of 450 years as if you had lived it."

"I am almost 482 years old, milady," he countered gently. "I _did_ live it."

". . .But you aren't undead, or like me. . . So _how_?"

"My brother was granted wings to break free from his prison," he said listlessly. "With his release, my father, Valerious the Elder, made a vow to God that his family would never rest nor enter heaven until the demon was vanquished from our bloodline _. . . ._ And I, like my brother became something _new_. My christened name was struck from the registry, and I was banished by the Holy Order to carry out a single task. I was granted eternal youth until the time my brother meets his end and my family name is cleared of darkness forever . . . Until that day, I cannot find peace. . ."

Lynara was unaware she was shaking, even as her heart danced painfully in her chest. Nothing could have prepared her for tale he had told. Nothing could have made her come to terms with the darkness he had had to endure in his extended lifetime. And in that moment, Lynara shed tears for him and for the one he called brother. For a breath she thought on what he had said before cold dread crept up her spine, and it all became clear.

"You wanted me to kill Dracula for you. . ."

"Yes, my lady."

". . . And Dracula is your . . . _your_. . ."

A single tear dropped from the Priest's sea-green eyes, as he lifted his gaze to the silver crucifix.

"He is my _brother_."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Longest period for no updates. . . I'm so sorry everyone. ^^; I have no excuse but personal uncertainty and writers block. But I do believe I've worked past the worst of it. With the help of my dear cousin _**EEstelle**_ and the awe-inspiring _**Remember,**_ I was able to finally come to terms with myself and get writing again. Thank you so much ladies! Without your encouragement, sweet reviews, and insights I would still be stuck. *hugs and cries gratefully*

So, this was the last huge plot twist before the end of the story. I think that another 5 or 6 chapters will conclude Dancing into the Night, but we shall see. Any predictions? Thoughts about our Priest's story of woe? ;)

 _ **Special shout out to:**_

 **PhantomOfWriting, Ele, DraculasBride22, alexc1209, RavenHuffle, Jamoo34, Kennawenna722, EEstelle,** my two newest **Guests,** and the ever inspirational Madame **Remember.**

Thank you everyone for your reviews, faves, watches, support, and patience! You all have made this story possible! I love ya'll and I'm grateful for you!

See you next chapter~!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	22. Chapter 22

**Dancing into the Night: Part Twenty-Two**

* * *

For an unknown amount of time, Lynara and the Priest sat in silence. After such an unforeseeable revelation, it was hard to speak further. For what could possibly be said after such a tale? So much darkness had been born from such a hopeful beginning. It was almost more than could be bared. . . and Lynara openly wept for the past. It seemed when she had spoken to the Count of her own terrible childhood and the events surrounding her Uncle, his empathy had come from a genuine understanding. Not only had he been deserted by those who should have cared about him, but he had lost his family as well. From his father who had cursed him and his brother who was meant to kill him. . . to the child that had been murdered. . . Vladislaus's entire existence was a solid page of deprivation and shadows. And yet, he had grown to care for her. . . To _love_ her, in spite of all he had experienced and lost. He had trusted her enough to try again. . . It was all rather humbling to think about.

More crystalline tears dripped down the woman's pallid brown face, as a soft smile lifted to her grace her features. At the utterly unexpected expression that rose on the woman's face, the man beside her stiffened. His scarred countenance showed nothing, but his eyes gave away his confusion.

Lynara slid closer to the Priest on the pew, before she unhurriedly wrapped her arms about his lithe frame. As she embraced him fully, she could feel how rigid he was, but it didn't stop her from placing a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I _understand_ now, and for that I am grateful to you beyond measure."

Finally, he found a place for his hands- upon the small of her back- and he returned the contact. His grip was feather light, as if she was made of porcelain or glass, but it didn't take away from the sincerity of the action. He was obviously one who had not been touched often, and yet he made the effort to comfort her. It said much of his character to Lynara as she pulled away and regarded him.

"You have not begged me to alter my mission." It was spoken with curiosity, but not as a question.

"Would it do me any good to plead with you now, sir?" She returned evenly, prominent sea-green meeting the emotional chocolate brown. "Would you give up your own chance at happiness to assure mine? A stranger who has done nothing to benefit you? It is not the way of the world."

"Then you wouldn't try to save _the_ _Dragon's_ life?"

"You are stronger than me in every aspect- age, agility, knowledge- and I have nothing to offer you in exchange for Vladislaus's life," she reasoned in a choked off voice. "I cannot threaten, barter, or convince you that another way is possible. I cannot help you regain your name or your family's redemption. Nor can I create a pathway that will lead you to Heaven's Gate. . . I want him to live more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I want the pain and the violence to stop. I would pay any price within my power to see us all at peace . . . But I won't waste any more time on things I know I cannot change. For our time here on this earth is precious, and I've lost so much of it already. Aleera and the Count taught me as much, and I have taken it to heart."

The Priest had listened unmoving as she answered him, and he studied her for the longest time.

"You sell yourself short, my lady. . . Your words speak of wisdom and surprising compassion . . . . . It is no wonder my brother is so drawn to you."

"The allure is mutual I fear," she said without guile.

". . . If your words were _not_ to fall deaf on my ears, would you ask for his life?"

"I would trade my life for his and weep at your feet, Priest. If I knew you'd listen to me."

". . . You love him then? Dracula son of the Devil? Murderer of thousands and a monster of the night?"

Lynara smiled, a bittersweet upturning of her lips, though there was no hesitation in her answer or tone. "When I first met him, I was wary. I fought his advances and vowed to not lose my head. Rationality has always been my greatest companion, and I knew that it wasn't wise to _care. . ._ But as I came to know him, I was drawn to what I saw."

"And what did you see, my lady?"

Her eyes sparkled for the briefest of moments, as a single crystallized tear slid slowly down her jawline and chin.

"I saw _truth_ , Priest. . . I saw someone just as lonely and in need as myself. He offered me romance and even love, but it was the thing he gave me _before_ , that made me forget my rational sensibilities. . . He proffered a simple tavern wench his friendship and protection, without want of payment or gift. Even before she loved him in return. . . Even before he knew _what_ she was, or _who_ she might become, he _tried_ to understand her. . . The moment I realized he was sincere towards me, was when I returned his affections. Though I fought my heart every step of the way, and paid the price for my folly all too well. . ."

Lynara thought back on all the nights she had spent within the Red Chamber, telling stories to the handsome shadow in the corner. The eternal blue of his eyes cutting sharper than any blade, as he listened to her with absolute focus. Question after question he had asked, leading from one topic to another, until she was hoarse from speaking. All the times he had laughed quietly as she used her hands to express her excitement, or the seconds where he had held her hand in his. . . Now, looking back, she knew those nights would forever be her most precious memories.

"I will love him for all time, sir." She said. "And nothing that happens in this life or the next will change that."

The Priest was still for an unknown amount of time, before he reached behind him and lifted his hood back into place. As the depths of his cowl covered his face from view again, the earlier connection between the maid and man dissipated like a wisp of smoke, as he stood from the bench. The gray robes that shielded his form, hid all body language from sight, as his coarse voice addressed her firmly.

". . . You must rest, my lady. . . You will need your strength, for when he comes for you."

"He will not come for me," she said more out of wishful thinking than actual belief.

"For his sake, let us hope you are correct."

The Priest left the chamber then, closing the door firmly behind him, as the maid looked up at the Crucifix that now taunted her. As she heard the lock on the door click loudly into place, her fear grew and she bowed her head in a desperate prayer.

" _Oh Lord, if you can hear me, please send your love and guidance. Your daughter is broken and weary of her journey, Father. She has lost much and dreamed of happiness that she knows she will never receive. . . Please. . . . . . Please, I cannot live without my life. Keep him safe, Lord. . . Please keep him safe. . ."_

* * *

He stalked away from the door, key in hand, as his thoughts fluttered apprehensively through his mind. He was similar to a plague rat- unbridled and utterly lost. It almost felt as if he had been placed on the brink of madness. Flashes of his brother and nephew flickered past his sea-green eyes, as he collapsed in the courtyard and wept. Oh, how many times had he relived the loss of them! How many hours he had spent praying for their souls and his own.

After four centuries, there was no peace, no rhyme or reason. Vladislaus had not been the only one to lose everything; his pact with the Devil had cost them all dearly. . . and yet, no hatred had ever blossomed in the Priest's heart. His charge from the Church was clear, but he took no joy from it.

As the minutes ticked by in the snow-laced cemetery, the man raised his eyes to the paled heavens. He looked up vaguely, as he thought on what he must do. He would never find peace as long as Vladislaus lived. The Valerious linage would never be free, as long as the Nosferatu stood against their family canvass as a blight. . . There was no choice. . . There never had been one.

The Priest knelt in the snow, ignoring the wet cloth against his legs, as he offered up a prayer of his own. Then, he shut his eyes and reached out with his conscious.

If he was to succeed in his goal, he would have to contact the vampire. The demon would need to know how to find them, if the trap was to be set properly. . . Since the Priest had brought Lynara to the Abbey a week prior, he had sent word back to Transylvania. The Holy Order had apparently sent a Hunter of their own to finish off the _Nosferatu_. As a faithful servant, he had sent word to the Hunter of their whereabouts, and directives for his arrival. Whether Lynara helped them or not, she would act as the bait needed to catch their monster . . . . Now, he only needed to reel the devil inward. . .

The Priest reached out with his mind, letting his body fall into the lightest state of slumber possible to make his journey. With each inhale, he fell deeper into the mist, his limbs becoming unbearably heavy as he arrived. With assured steps, he walked through the Gray smoke of the Between World, his mind calling out for Dracula, even as he felt a presence behind him. For the second, regret and pain crossed the scarred plains of his face. But as he turned around to face his personal demon, the emotion vanished and was replaced with the fire of determination.

* * *

The sun shone almost violet-white against the falling snow, as midday rapidly approached. Innumerable minuscule fractals danced through the air in an unknown pattern of flurry and shine. The Carpathians were well coated in the first grasp of winter, with only a handful of the jagged slopes remaining untouched by the frost and elements.

From the west, a single figure rode across the harsh countryside, his garb and horse blacker than pitch as he spurred on through the growing blizzard. Against the white of the mountains, he stood out clearly. From a bird's eye view, the speck of dark clashed against the white and seemed to glide across it, never once stopping or slowing down. This mysterious shadow rider was a force to be reckoned with, and even the great Carpathians seemed to hold their breath.

The only noise to be heard was the labored sounds of the horse, and the occasional _hiyah_ from the man who rode it. Despite the fact that it was a Romanian steed, built for agility and the rocky terrain, the horse was having a hard time keeping up with the man's unrelenting command for speed. But the animal didn't fight. The stallion could sense the tenacity of its master, and snorted heavily as it continued at its breakneck pace.

The man's face was covered by a dark cloth, save for two hazel brown eyes that stared out from beneath a wide brimmed hat. But had a person looked at him, they would have known him to be a man of action and a worthy adversary. Long dark brown hair fell down past the hat's restrictions, while a firm hand reached down to check the saddle bag.

The contents of the bag were all unusual to be sure, but the one that held the man's attention now was the strangest of all. A silver crossbow with countless ridges and a rounded cartridge of arrows- automatic and deadly. This weapon had already proved itself in battle, not two days before. It had claimed the lives of two vampires, and now it would end _one_ _more_.

As the sun grew higher in the stormy sky, the man drew ever nearer to his destination. Though he had originally gone to Transylvania to confront the monster he had been ordered to hunt, he had received word that the venue had changed. It was true, that a deserted Abbey was the last place he'd have looked for a creature of hell, but it also gave him more of a strategy to play with. Holy ground meant an automatic advantage. Though from the tales of _this_ particular vampire, it still wouldn't go down without one helluva fight. But after Carl's ramblings and preparations, he was ready for all contingencies. Now all he had to do was reach the abbey.

The man spurred his horse onward, giving an urgent _hiyah,_ as they raced through the snow. All the while, the winds seemed to carry his accursed name along for the journey. A breathless chorus for the murderer who fought for the Holy Order and the Church.

 _. . . . . . . Van Helsing . . . . . . . Van Helsing . . . . . . . Van Helsing . . . . . . ._

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** Hey guys! I updated before a month passed! *dances at the average rate I posted this in* Hahahah! Anyway, filler chapter mostly. But next chapter should be interesting.

What did you guys think of the surprise appearance at the end of the chapter? ;) Any predictions, thoughts? I can't wait to see what you guys think of the next chapter! Oh my goshhhh! I'm so excited!

 _ **Special Shout out to:**_

 **Kennawenna722:** Thank you for the wonderful welcome back, dearie! I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter!

 **Indra1989:** Thank youuuu! ^^

 **ExaltantTurtle:** Thank you so much for reading, my dear. I'm so glad that it's a realistic/believable story despite the fantasy/supernatural factors. That means a lot.

 **PhantomOfWriting:** You are such a sweetie! Thank you so much for being patient with me! I'm flattered that this story is still able to surprise and entertain you! I try my best to make good chapters when I update. lol Here's hoping you like the rest.

 **alexc1209:** Hahaha, I introduce so many twists. I hope I'm not making you dizzy with them all. XD

 **EEstelle:** Thanks for always being willing to be my guinea piggy, love. Luff your guts and your editorial skills! XD

 **Guest:** I shall do my best to give you more soon! You have my word! ;)

and my lovely Madame **Remember:** No words as always. I love you beyond words, and I'm always blown away by your attention to detail. I don't know what I'd do without your insights and support. You make it all worth while. Here's to finishing the story before New Years. Hahahah! No more writer's block!

Love you all! See you next chapter~!

 _ **~Lyn**_


	23. Chapter 23

**Dancing into the Night: Part Twenty-Three**

* * *

The Crossroads were hauntingly calm. There was no sound from the dead who passed through the misty gateways; no words were needed for those bound for the other side. It was eerie in its silence, though the two figures who now faced one another were oblivious to the muted sounds. For they could only see each other.

It had been many years since the Priest and Vampire had set eyes on one another, and yet neither had changed. They remained suspended by time, their bodies ageless as the centuries had eclipsed together in a long strand of memories and regret.

The Priest's sea green eyes met and held the vampire's deep blue ones. The nameless one felt his heart twist at the sight that met him, but refused to let the emotion grace his scarred face. Once, long ago, his older brother's eyes had danced with light and ambition, but now they shone with glacial indifference and the beginnings of disdain. The angular face that had once been tanned and healthy from the sun, was now deathly pale and devoid of life. The once prominent smile lines had been hidden by a stony expression and a cold stare. There was no emotion in his gaze, but the challenge behind the stormy blue eyes was clear. The Priest shuddered internally, as it reminded him of the moment Vladislaus had awoken to his undead life.

The vampire stood wordlessly, garbed in the white robes of Limbo, before a single brow rose.

"Do you really believe that you are safe here, _brother mine_? That you are . . . _untouchable?_ " The question was accented deeply, almost sounding like a growl as it entered the tranquility of the gray between world. It made the hair on the Priest's neck raise unbidden.

"I have no illusions of safety."

The vampire's lips quirked up in a humorless smirk. "Then you remain forever the fool, Vasile."

The sea-green eyes widened for a breath, as the forgotten name was whispered into the fog.

. . . _**Vasile**_ _. . ._

The name of the nameless one. The name of the immortal Valerious bastard. The name he had been forced to let go of so many centuries ago. . .

"I have never claimed to be wise, Vladislaus. I merely _am_ ," came the hoarse reply, as he folded his hands together in the form of a prayer.

Dracula's lips rose over his teeth, flashing a hint of his elongated fangs, as he stared down the other man. Though their words seemed light, the conversation was anything but. Each exchange held a threat, or a painful memory. Each moment was reminder of what had been taken and lost.

"Run now, _Priest_." He hissed deeply, a terrifying sound that seemed to ripple throughout the expanse. "For if I find you, I will show you no mercy."

"Your mercy is what keeps me here, _Nosferatu_." The reply was solemn and unshakable. "If you had taken my life in the Abbey, we would not be here now. When you spared my life, you cursed me, as you cursed yourself."

The laugh that broke through the calm was altogether frightening. It was barbed and full of bile, as the vampire tipped back his head at the fleeting moment of ill-humor.

"You think you understand my plight? You think you know what it means to be a monster? . . . Though I suppose you have had a taste of such things." The laughter subsided into a pointed glance, as the vampire looked down on his prey. "Forced to hunt me, with your Dhampir ranks in tow. . . Unable to cleanse the family line yourself."

"I cannot kill you . . ."

"You are _weak_. Attached to ghosts that have long since been buried." The vampire began to circle, instantly transforming into the midnight predator. The deep blue eyes began to glow, as he took deliberate steps around the Priest. "Tell me, does your precious Holy Order still spin lies to those who seek me out? Do they still make others believe, that if Anna and Vulcan Valerious pass on before smiting me, that our bloodline will be damned?"

The Priest looked down, his sea-green orbs shining with what appeared to be shame. The vampire barked out another laugh, as he continued to circle the man he'd called brother.

"Keep the truth to yourself, and feed fables to those who follow." He shook his head, making his long raven hair dance about his paled face. "I could kill off the Valerious completely, but their fate would still hang in the balance. . ."

"For I am the last of our line," the Priest whispered hoarsely. "Only when I die, will our family line be shunned from Heaven forever. . ."

"And yet here you stand before me. . . Risking it all," the vampire taunted, coming to stand behind the nameless one, before placing a hand to his shoulder. Dracula's fingers clenched down on his flesh, cutting into him with a vice-like grip. If he squeezed any harder, the man's arm would break. Harder than that, and it'd snap off like a twig. While the Dragon had inherited incredible strength with his immortality, the Priest had not. Save for aging, he was all too human. The contact made him cringe uncomfortably from pain and apprehension.

"You have taken something precious that belongs to me, Vasile," Dracula continued darkly, his glowing blue eyes flashing dangerously. "And I would have it returned."

"You speak of her like she is an object." The disgust was clear in the Priest's voice.

"No," the Count's smile showed his own distaste. "I merely am referring to her in _terms_ you will understand. Seeing as you've taken her as collateral."

"I was there when you weren't," the coarse voice spat indignantly, rising past its usual whisper tone. "I saved her from the flames and your depraved Sireling who wanted her dead! If you are looking to place blame, lay it at your own feet!"

Dracula studied the scarred depths of his brother's face, intently looking for falsehood, as his fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of his shoulder. But the Priest ignored it, continuing to speak as he looked off towards the faceless crowds that entered the mist.

"She was burned and dying when I found her. She needed blood to survive. . . So, I gave it to her." The sea-green eyes showed more emotion than they had in many years, and it gave the vampire pause. "When I let my own blood pour into her wounds, an attachment was made. It was similar to the connection you make with your vampiric children when they are born again."

"A Sire bond."

"Yes." He nodded minutely. "All of Lynara's thoughts, memories, impressions were made clear to me. They entered my mind as if it was my life, instead of hers. . . I felt her agony, her desires. . . Her love for you."

The scarred man turned away then, the pearl white of his cowl hiding his face from the vampire's acute eyes. Vladislaus was silent, but without a word his grip loosened and his hand merely rested on the Priest's shoulder.

"She would _die_ for you, brother. She would do anything to see you safe and content." Dracula's expression remained hard, though his eyes had softened almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing.

"She believes that you are still capable of stepping into the light, after all these years of darkness. . ." He paused with a hint of sorrow clouding his husky voice. "Will you not set her free, brother? Will you not let her be held by the light and what is pure? Should she not reach for life instead of death?"

A single tear trickled down Dracula's pallid face, painting his cheek as it rolled slowly to then fade at his jaw line.

"Appealing to my humanity." His expression was glacial as he regarded the other immortal intently. "How very _Christian_ of you."

The Priest met the vampire's gaze without hesitation. "Lady Lynara is my responsibility. From the moment she was born a Dhampir, I was meant to aid her. . . I will not give up the fight for her life and happiness, Vladislaus."

"Nor will I," Dracula vowed solemnly. "But you must know that I will not let her go willingly."

The Priest dipped his head in acceptance, as he reached out to place a hand on the vampire's shoulder. There was regret and so much despair in the action, and yet neither pulled away.

"There is only death for you, Dracul. . . If you come to find her, it will all end. I promise you this."

Vladislaus's white fangs stretched into a wolfish smile, that almost shone as bright as his glowing blue eyes. In the swirling gray of the Crossroads, it made him appear as an apparition. . . A demonic specter from beyond the grave, waving poor souls to come near and partake. . . It made the Priest fill with dread, as he beheld the creature before him.

"You speak of death in such a negative light, Vasile. You have forgotten that I have faced it before. . . Death is only the beginning."

* * *

The Count awoke sometime later, his ethereal eyes opening unhurriedly as the sun began to set. It was time. Time to find Lynara, time to end the threat and take back what was his. Freedom! From the Holy Order and their gullible pets! It was time for _change!_

With unearthly speed, the vampire rose from his coffin made of stone and ice, and sprinted down one of the countless corridors of his great fortress. As the nearest window came into view, the vampire snarled and began to transform. The paled skin warped into gray leathery wings and extended flesh, his size growing rapidly. And then he was jumping, past the open window frame out into the air. For a second he fell. But before he got far, the gigantic wings had spread to full capacity, catching his fall as he flapped with the winter gale. As the wind gushed beneath him, Dracula spiraled upward, before he gave a great screech and set out for his destination.

Lynara was being held within the Dhampir Haven- an ancient burial ground for the supernatural hunters. It had been several hundred years since he'd seen it, but the memory of its location was fresh in his forethoughts.

As the last hints of the sun disappeared into the opaque winter horizon, Dracula felt the slightest tingle of apprehension flutter up his spine. Lynara was in danger, whether she was aware of it, or not.

The vampire knew that he would keep her safe, the cost be damned.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** The testosterone in this chapter nearly killed me, despite it being kinda short. X'D Seriously though. . . I can't write angry men. It's challenging and drains your writing powers. Hahah! So it's on! Y'all ready for the storm that's coming? I know I'm not! *sobs and laughs at the same time* So much to happen. . .

Any way I hope you guys liked this chapter! (Editing was done by my saving grace EEstelle. Love you darling~)

 **Special Shout Outs to:**

 **Kennawenna722:** Enjoy the update, dearie!

 **OnyxTears:** Welcome to the good ship misery! JK! Hahah, seriously though welcome to Dancing! I'm so honored that you were unable to stop reading until you reached the last update. That means a lot to me. This story has been my baby for a while now, and it always makes me feel amazing to know others are having fun with it too. ^^ Thank you so much for reading and leaving such a sweet review!

 **Survivor12-21-12:** Hope you like the new chapter!

 **alexc1209:** I'm glad you enjoyed Van Helsing's first appearance. XD It took me forever to have him pop up, but I wanted the timing to be right. ;)

 **Bone App the Teeth:** I must say that your review made my day! I'm so thrilled that you're so invested in the story! I've tried to make it engaging but not to predictable. It's nice to know that the aspect of wonder is still there. ^^ I hope your own projects are going well, as well as your tests! Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review!

 **RavenHuffle:** I don't think you could run out of things to make me blush, dear. I'm cool that way. ^^ You always are so kind with your reviews! It never feels like you're repeating past comments. But I might be a bit biased in that regard. *smiles* I hope you continue to enjoy the chapters.

 **EEstelle:** Thanks for always being my guinea piggy! I don't think Drac would be half as fabulous without your input. Bless you Mershy. *blows kisses*

Madame **Remember:** As always, I have no words or coherent things to say. *giggles and hugs you* I just love you! Your writing, your sweet nature, your reviews. I'm just a lucky little writer to have you in my life. Everyone should have a reader like you. If they did, the world would be a better place. You have encouraged me so much and helped me bring life to this story. I would be lost without. If I could shower you with rainbows and brownies I would. Lol

Love you all! See you next chapter!

 ** _~Lyn_**


	24. Chapter 24

**Dancing into the Night: Part Twenty-Four**

* * *

The sun had begun to set in the pale, snowy heavens, with the promise of death on the air. From his position on his midnight colored stallion, Van Helsing rode with purpose. He'd been traveling for the better part of that day, and now as the evening verged ever nearer, the man spotted his destination in the distance. He had been given directions to the abandoned abbey before leaving Transylvania, and now his efforts had paid off.

The Abbey stood in its dilapidated glory, encased against one of the curvy slopes of the Carpathians. At one time, it must have been a beautiful place, hidden from all prying eyes and people. But now, after years of disrepair, it was a dark spot against the white of the slope, making it stand out quite visibly.

Van Helsing finally allowed his pace to lull. With a tired snort of relief, the horse complied with a slower trot. The all-but spent steed, heaved in great gulps of air, as it fought to calm its heart from the unrelenting run it had endured. But the man paid his horse no mind. He was here for one purpose, and the horse had allowed him to arrive faster than on foot- no more, no less.

With a calculating hazel gaze, the man approached the Abbey with caution. A million courses of action blazed through his mind, as he silently maneuvered around the far side of the structure. There was no way to tell if the vampire he was hunting was lying in wait, or if he'd beat the creature there.

So, he vigilantly rounded upon the failing monastery at a wary walk. He came to the edge of the grounds, marked with gravestones and countless wooden crosses, and made his way through them. Van Helsing couldn't help but offer a silent prayer for all those who rested beneath his feet, as he bid his stallion to halt, and noiselessly dismounted. He hitched the horse to a bench among the graves, before he grabbed the gear in his saddle bag and continued on foot.

The snow crunched nearly imperceptibly beneath his boots, adding a hushed rhythm of sound to the otherwise soundless mountain. Up here, amid the wild Carpathians, there was nothing but isolation and an echo of ancient times long since passed. It struck a chord with the man as he let his eyes study his surroundings.

Van Helsing didn't belong anywhere. He was neither a man of the church, nor a man of the people. He murdered and fought for good, but he knew that he had lost the spark of righteousness long ago. With each life that he took for his own, the greater the all-consuming hole in his soul grew. At first, he had ignored the effects; he'd even been invigorated by the kills at times. But with each passing year, his mistake became all the clearer.

His work for the Holy Order was damned. In the end, when his time was finally over, Van Helsing knew he would join those he had murdered in the depths of the fiery pit. It was only a matter of time now, before he felt their eternal anguish as his own defeat. Or so he had come to believe.

Van Helsing had been resigned to his fate for some time now, but it didn't stop him from sending the monsters he found to the Gates of Hell. The Hunter would carry out his mission until he reached his breaking point. He would do what the Holy Order asked of him and he would defeat those who stood against the Church. It was his way of life. It was his eternal task, whether he believed in it or not.

So, Van Helsing did not hesitate as he drew closer to the monastery. Each step the man took held purpose and barely bridled strength. His hazel eyes scanned the tombstones in search of any signs of his recent prey. Though instead, he found someone else in the frosted burial grounds.

Several feet away from what appeared to be the entrance to the Abbey, a lone figure knelt in the snow. His robes of washed-out gray created a deep contrast against the pure white of the snow, just like the abbey had from a distance. His garb was that of a Priest, but Van Helsing still, approached at the ready.

With his gas-propelled crossbow aimed directly at the kneeling man, Van Helsing nudged the weapon between the stranger's shoulder blades. At first, the Priest didn't stir, but after the Hunter repeated the action, the man's eyes slid open to regard him. Deep hazel challenged sea green, before the Priest spoke.

"The Church sent you?" His voice was hoarse and as gravelly as stone.

Van Helsing studied him silently, ignoring the question to ask one of his own. "Who are you?"

The Priest, still kneeling in the snow, steepled his hands together in the action of prayer before he answered in a hoarse sigh. "I am _nameless_. Forgotten and deserted, a mirrored replica of the monastery you now see before you. I am the Priest of the Dhampir, charged to help the Order destroy the _Nosferatu_ Dracula. The Holy Brothers would have explained as much to you before your departure from Rome."

Van Helsing slowly lowered his crossbow, though he still held it firmly in his gloved hands. Only the man he was supposed to seek out would know the details of his mission. The Priest appeared to be honest, and didn't hold any apparent threat. But only time would tell the full story.

"Why are you out here, Father? Surely it's more comfortable indoors?" The question was posed with genuine curiosity. It was well beyond frozen outside, and yet the Priest knelt unrepentantly in the snow and showed no signs of moving.

For a moment, the sea green eyes seemed lost in thought before the nameless one replied. "I was setting the trap for the beast that you have come to kill. He should be here soon. The winds will be his ally when the sun sets."

"Winds? Are you sure _giant wings_ aren't the reason." Van Helsing spoke as if it were obvious, but the Priest shook his head.

"It would normally take him some time to travel so far, Hunter. But he is desperate and running out of time. . . It would do you well to _not_ underestimate him."

Van Helsing studied the Priest thoughtfully, going back in his mind to substitute all the information he'd gathered from the Cardinal before leaving Rome. It finally came to him, as the Priest finally rose from the white powder that encased his skinny legs.

"I was told he hunts those by the name of Valerious, Father."

"That is true enough."

The more muscular and armed one of the two asked, "Do you intend to use one of them as bait for this Dracula? Or do you have something else of value to lure him here?"

"The Dragon could care less about Anna and Velkan Valerious now." The Priest gestured for the hunter to follow him to the abbey, as they made their way back towards what appeared to be an entrance. "His newest prey is something he views as far more precious, than his mortal father's lineage."

"What? Don't tell me you found blood fountain for this crumbling cloister, Father." Though the words were both horrible and humorous, neither really accepted the joke for what it was. It was clear both men were on edge, and no amount of small talk would change that.

"He seeks a human in my care," came the Priest's careful reply, as he opened the ancient door wide for them to enter. "The demon will stop at nothing to find her and take her away."

"A woman?" The slight raise of Van Helsing's eyebrows showcased his surprise, though he recovered almost instantly. "What does he want with her?"

The sorrow in the Priest's eyes was palpable and made the hunter more nervous than he'd care to admit.

"Dracula craves her as no other. . . He wishes to consume her _light_ , Gabriel. To keep her for his own devices, and whisk her from the world of man." Van Helsing's gaze sharpened as the Priest called him by name. How he had known it in the first place was a mystery to the hunter, though he had no time to comment as the Priest continued. "I will assure the lady's safety and happiness, no matter the personal cost. She is an innocent, having entered in at the end of a morbid tale. I would see her saved, before all is said and done."

Van Helsing was still for a breath before he clapped a hand to the Priest's shoulder. His grip was relaxed and surprisingly compassionate as he dipped his head in understanding. From beneath the wide brimmed hat that he wore, the hunter's hazel gaze shone with something akin to empathy, as well as his naturally unshakable resolve.

"We _will_ save her, Priest. You have my word."

The man of the cloth looked relieved, before he clasped the hunter's shoulder in gratitude. His hand only stayed there for a breath, before he was entering the threshold of the abbey.

"You have my thanks, Van Helsing."

Gabriel followed the Priest deeper into the structure, rearranging his hold on his crossbow on pure impulse. "Don't thank me just yet, Father. . . Not until the beast is dead."

The Priest's eyes became sad for the briefest of moments, before he nodded. "Indeed. Come, hunter. We have a trap to set."

The two men disappeared into the deepest recesses of the abbey as fresh allies, to discuss the details of their plan. And all the while, they never heard the velvet-soft words spoken from behind the old chapel doorway, nor saw the oddly colored mist that had begun to seep through the foundations from the graveyard outside.

* * *

Lynara had felt each passing second tick away since she'd spoken with the Priest earlier that day. She had prayed and cried more than could be reckoned, and yet she still clenched her hands in a wordless plea. Every fiber of her body boasted fatigue, and yet her intuition of what would soon come made her more alert than ever. The blood burned in her veins as it passed through her arteries and capillaries, racing to be regenerated in her wildly pumping heart. Each pulsation brought the dread closer to the surface, and as she heard two male voices outside the chapel doorway, the woman knew that she had run out of time. The Priest has called for help. The Count would be outnumbered on consecrated ground . . . It was a hopeless fight.

She would have run hours ago, if the heavy door hadn't been locked by the Priest. When he had first left, she'd tried to unlock it and even bashed her body against it. But she wasn't strong enough to make a dent against the sturdy oak. Again and again, the maid had crashed against the wooden surface, ignoring the bruises that rose to her already tender dark flesh, as she fought to break free. But it was to no avail.

Now, the sun was setting. There were no windows in the chapel, but Lynara knew without a doubt that the light was fading. As the hours had passed, the stones had grown colder, and now they were like barren slabs of granite ice against her bared feet. The Count would be walking into a trap if he came here, and yet there was no way to run to meet him. He would come to the Abbey and lose the battle due to the natural disadvantages. _Nosferatu_ had many powers and many playing fields, but nothing undead could pass freely on consecrated grounds. He would be weakened and left open to harm.

Lynara openly wept as she raised her hands to cover her eyes. There was no way to settle this conflict without a battle. No way to keep everyone safe and peaceably blithe. There was no joy in sight. It was a long-forgotten memory on a canvas of blood and pain. It was a twisted game that demanded that all the wretched players pay a price. No one remained untouched by its grotesque hand, nor escaped its death grip. Since the first time Lynara had met Vladislaus, she had been catapulted onto a fast track of torment, and now it was finally coming to an end. At the hands of a broken Priest and whoever he had called to help, her life would end, along with the one she loved . . .

Lynara wiped the plenteous tears from her face aggressively, breathing shakily as she fought to contain the dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. She would not give up yet; not until there was nothing left. She would fight, until it was all finally over.

For a time, the maid sat in contemplative thought. Her brain ached for a plan to achieve the desired conclusions, and it was in this state, that she felt _it._

At first it was just an impression, silky and unfamiliar. But it began to grow and form, making unknown chills run down Lynara's spine in almost violent bursts. It was as if invisible, frosted hands held her; one at her waist, and the other tracing its way down her bared neck in beautifully agonizing tenderness. At first, the maid felt panic grip her heart, but as a voice resounded in the silence of her mind, the girl's misgivings no longer troubled her. It was an exquisite purr in the back of her conscious, addressing her in velvet tones that made her blood warm for another reason entirely.

" _ **. . . Lynara. . ."**_

A choked off laugh, somewhere between relief and hysterics, erupted from the dark maid's mouth as _he_ said her name. There was such love in his tone; a pleasant reminder of better days.

" _Count?_. . . You found me." She smiled through the tear tracks on her cheeks, and reached for the invisible hands that held her tight. She could not grip the manifestation, but she rested her hands along the spots where she could feel it holding her. The maid tipped her head back as invisible fingers pulled her hair away from her face.

" _ **I will always find you, little storyteller."**_ His response sounded warm, soothing even, and Lynara felt her heart skip.

"It is a trap, Vladislaus," she returned in a whisper, suddenly aware of the men's voices that resounded from somewhere outside the door. "Please do not come here. I am in no danger, save for the fear of losing you. There is another man here with the Priest. They are preparing for your arrival. . . Your brother has made his decision, and despite my prayers and wishes, I cannot alter it."

" _ **He made his decision the moment he met you, my darling. Nothing could change it."**_

"Then you know of his determination?"

" _ **I am well aware, Lynara. . . There is nothing more to do. For just as Vasile has made his choice, so I have made**_ _ **mine**_ _ **."**_

Vasile? Did he mean the Priest? Lynara's confusion over the unknown name would have given her pause, if the moving presence hadn't made her breath catch in the back of her throat.

The hands grew firmer, the one around her waist splaying against her middle, while the one at her neck held her still. She could almost feel his breath on her skin, as the hands traced her chilled flesh intently. His touch was unyielding, though she knew she wouldn't have pulled away from him, even if he'd allowed it. She could not see him with her eyes, but he was there, and for one blessed moment, she let herself bask in the feeling of refuge he exuded so freely.

As seconds turned into minutes, Lynara realized that for the first time in what felt like years, she could _breathe_.

The woman tipped her head back as a soft smile crept up to cover her mouth. She could feel Vladislaus's thumb moving against her middle, where his hand was still splayed. His thumb was calloused, but ever so gentle, even now . . . after everything. Lynara felt a shaky laugh bubble up, past the knot in her chest that had been suffocating her, and her body became complaisant.

"I had almost forgotten what it felt like," she whispered in emotional awe, as she leaned deeper into the invisible touch.

Dracula hummed, as he let his hand that rested around her neck caress her frozen skin tenderly. _**"Forgotten what, my darling?"**_

"What it felt like to be happy. . ." She struggled to form her thoughts into words. "With all that has happened, I had almost lost that part of myself. . ." Lynara stopped as another grateful breath tore past her lips, her smile growing unbidden. "But I think you've helped me find it again, Count. . . I can _feel_ it, like the sun after years of darkness. . . It's _here_ , inside me once again."

Lynara heard him chuckle softly in her head, and she couldn't help the butterflies that traveled from her stomach to her knees, making them weak. How she had missed that sound and the man to go with it. In her mind's eye, Lynara could see him smiling at her, his deep blue eyes affectionate as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

" _ **You never lost the ability to be happy, little one. You merely couldn't find it with so much darkness around you."**_

Lynara felt his palm come to rest against her heart, as it beat a natural rhythm in the hollow of her chest. His touch felt warm as they listened to her heartbeat together.

And in that peaceful moment, the maid knew that she would never regret her decisions. She would never be anything but thankful for the love she had been granted and felt in return. No matter what happened, she would never doubt her heart again.

"If your brother knew the extent of what you have given me, he would let me go to you, Vladislaus."

" _ **He fears for your soul, Lynara."**_ Came the calmed reply. _ **"No words or gestures can give him peace of mind, where that is concerned. His loss and despair spurs him into action, much like me."**_

Lynara focused her mind, and projected all her feelings of comfort to the one who held her. "You both have suffered beyond the point of grief, Vladislaus. And I would wish to see you step into the light with him at your side, before this tale is through. . . If I could only give it to you. If I could only make everyone happy for the right reasons. I _would_."

" _ **I know you would, little one. And I would let you heal all the wounds that time has afflicted, if I knew how."**_ Dracula's voice was steady, but even so, Lynara could sense a wistful note to it. _**"But I**_ **cannot** _ **. So, fate must be challenged, and our afflictions must be disregarded. We must**_ **survive** _ **, Lynara. . . and to do that, you must find a way to escape your captors."**_

The moment of happiness began to melt at the corners, and Lynara longed to cling to it with all her might. But she knew that she could not linger in memories and sunshine. There would be more fear and desperation before any such serenity could be found again. So, she forced her mind to clear, and found her determination renewed.

"I've been locked in, Vladislaus. I have tried to find another way out, but the stone is unbreakable, as is the door."

She heard him laugh again, though this time his amusement was palpable in the echos of her mind. _**"Allow me to take care of that for you, my dear."**_

"But _how-_?" Lynara cut off mid sentence, as she heard the lock of the door audibly click. With disbelieving brown eyes, the woman turned to stare at the handle. A thick black mist clung to the door in waves, like a unknown stretch of a midnight sea, as the door slowly cracked open.

Lynara glanced down and realized that her whole body was also covered by the unfamiliar mist. It took her several seconds to form a conclusion.

"You _control_ the mist. . . That is how you are here." It wasn't spoken as a question, as the mist that lingered about her waist squeezed her encouragingly.

" _ **You**_ **must** _ **escape, Lynara,"**_ Dracula bid her earnestly. _**"Holy ground limits my strength. . . But if you can reach me, we can avoid . . . unnecessary conflict."**_

Vladislaus was not one to back down from a fight so easily. . . But if he was willing to run for her sake, she wouldn't question it.

Lynara nodded, even though he couldn't see the action. "I can do it, Count. Where does the consecrated land end?"

" _ **Past the churchyard and graves, there are four weeping angels: statues that mark the Abbey. Once you set foot past any of these markers, you will be safe, little one."**_

"The Priest and his guest are busy. . . I think I can slip away unnoticed. . ." Then the maid thought better of her assessment. "But I haven't shoes or proper clothing, Vladislaus, and there is snow. If they suspect I have fled, they will be able to catch up to my pace with little hindrance."

For a moment, the Count was silent and Lynara feared the worst. But then his voice returned, sounding as if it had come from inside the room itself, rather than her mind.

" _ **I am mere minutes away, my darling. Bide your time and listen for their whereabouts. Once you are free of the Abbey, I**_ **will** _ **be there."**_ He sounded so certain that even with her fears, Lynara found herself unable to doubt him. He _would_ be there and she would make her way to him without being caught.

"I will see you soon, Vladislaus."

" _ **Be careful, my dearest storyteller."**_ Lynara saw the mist begin to retract from her body, before she felt the pressure of the vampire's hands let go of her. A feeling of dread encompassed her soul as he released her, which threatened to be accompanied by bile from her anxious stomach, but she pushed it away. She could do this. She _would_ do this!

"I love you, Count," she whispered, with her tattered heart bared securely on her sleeve.

" _ **And I you, Lynara. . . Now go!"**_

Without another thought, Lynara crept toward the door. Her heart hammered painfully, as her ears rang and her hands grew clammy. Her mouth grew dry, as the woman peeked around the edge of the doorway to check both directions of the corridor. When no one came into her view, Lynara slipped out of the desolate chapel, towards the courtyard and her freedom.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Long time no see guys! Hopefully the wait wasn't too terrible for everyone. ^^;

There are only two more chapters for Dancing into the Night, one a final chapter and one an epilogue. I am so excited to see what you all think of the ending! It's been a long time coming and I hope that it doesn't let down your expectations.

Huge shout out to **EEstelle** for being my beta guinea piggy! I love you darling!

 _ **Special thanks to:**_

 **alexc1209:** The show is about to begin for sure, dearie. I hope you will enjoy the ride! ;)

 **Dracul Grigore:** Dancing is your favorite Van Helsing fanfic? Oh my gosh, that is so wonderfully flattering, my dear! Thank you so much! ^^ Considering how many amazing authors are on the site, that praise is super high. *hugs happily* Thank you for sticking with me, despite my terrible update patterns. X'D Here's to your continued enjoyment of this tale!

 **OnyxTears:** The male ego is very tiring to write, but also extremely worthwhile. ;) Thanks for commenting and reading, my dear!

 **Bone App the Teeth:** Glad I could surprise you with sporadic updates, dearie. ^^ There have been so many times when I've worried that I haven't given Dracula enough character development throughout the story, but then you and the other reviewers remind me that I'm too particular. lol I really do appreciate the sweet comments and insight you've given. Enjoy the rest, Dev.

 **RavenHuffle:** Hello there, my dear RavenHuffle! As always you say extremely flatter and sweet things! I'm glad the confrontation between Dracula and the Priest didn't feel too forced to you. ^^ I strived to make it a realistic encounter. Hope you like the newest chapter!

Madame **Remember:** Love you dearest, T. I know I promised better updates, but then again, my muses cannot be tamed or cowed. X"D I hope that you're doing well, and that this newest update will be an interesting read for you. I decided to add some older vampire mythos in there just for the heck of it. I know your superior intellect and eyes will spot it right away. Only two more chapters to go and I am scared of how you will react. lol It is my deepest wish that you will continue to love Dancing into the Night, even after the final word has been typed. But alas, only time will tell. I hope this chapter finds you in good health, dearest. Thanks for always giving me the best reviews in the universe. 3

See you guys next chapter! *blows kiss and hands out cookies*

 **~Lyn**


End file.
